


Black Flies

by lucyraebrown



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, An American Werewolf In London, Drama & Romance, Fantasy, Gay Relationship (Mentioned), London, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Original Character(s), bitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 04:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19845616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucyraebrown/pseuds/lucyraebrown
Summary: Being turned into a werewolf as the result of his best friend's drunken mistakes, Andrew Davie isn't keen on the world he's been placed in by moral code and dreams of breaking away and becoming a musician. As he takes into his care a domesticated, full-blooded werewolf named Ginger, he encounters a merciless road of trials around escape, society, and all the passion in the world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, and welcome to Black Flies!
> 
> I started working on this story early September in 2018 as an AU for my original characters. I wanted to delve into a more fantasy-type realm as I'm not the biggest fan of the genre, but one thing tells me I needed to start somewhere- I have a hidden obsession with werewolves. And no, I'm not Team Jacob. I've never actually seen Twilight nor read the books. I just really like lycanthropes.
> 
> Turns out this alternate universe was one I fell in love with fast. My characters' new personalities and situations became unforgettable in my head near the ending of the first chapter and I couldn't leave myself hanging with a mere one-shot. Thus Black Flies was born into the story that it is now, and I'm happy to say the sequel is now in the works! This story is completed and has been on Wattpad for a bit, but I have moved it over here for more to enjoy.
> 
> You'll also notice I took the title and chapter names (in lyrical order) from one of my favorite singers, Ben Howard. My love for music is even more grand as my love for writing and I can't write without taking inspiration from songwriters more talented than me. I think Howard's song 'Black Flies' is an excellent soundtrack to the depth and mystery behind this little novel, and if you get the chance to hear the song I believe you'd understand where I'm coming from.
> 
> Alas, enjoy the story as it is. It's the first writing I have been brave enough to publish, and although I have many finished drafts and writings, I think it's a good place to start. It bleeds who I am, even if I find after every full moon I still haven't turned into a wolf myself.
> 
> Kudos,  
> Lucy.

Chapter I - Winter Stole Summer's Thrill

A frustrating, cold wind is sending the creature's scent off-balance, hitting him directly in the face and causing the canine to spit a few times before taking a long trot to catch up with the rest of the pack. His nails grind into the tough earth, gripping, trying to stay afoot as the current turns his fur back and makes running crooked a reality.

Julian needs them to find something to eat. A difficult mix of rain and the wet season has made catching prey a more hasty task than normal, especially considering his pack of alphas and betas aren't the most hunkiness of creatures. They're on the thin side, with bad pasts and even worse intentions; Davie himself isn't the most loyal, with a carefree attitude finding himself deep on a list of hatred among the alphas.

A low growl sounds in the werewolf's ear as he finds himself trailing behind, just yards between the usually-slow Marcus, his bushy brown tail flying in the wind. The beta turns his head around, looking guilty, his muzzle dropping. He seems frustrated with the same wind and weather, his fur matted down with mud and dirt. The beta was an overworked creature for his title; the alpha Jools preferred he was treated more as an omega-type servant, though he was as fond of Marcus as a human child would be to a new toy. He was treated to-a-t, and that was something Davie envied on a regular basis.

He catches up to the young brown wolf just in time to cross a stream of icy cold, dark water, sifting down from the mountains that traced the starry sky like a city skyline. The liquid sends a feverish chill up his body, his bones protesting, whimpering to his friend that maybe their long-awaited summer season wasn't quite here yet. Marcus wags it off, sniffing the air, not giving a single care in the world about anything except providing for their pack.

The werewolf decides he should probably do the same, as an abiding hunger in his stomach stuck out like a sore thumb in his thought process. It had been a while since they had dined on a good meal; Jools kept a decent amount of weak snacks and drinks in his manor, things like beef jerky and canned meats, but it wasn't enough to satisfy the hunger of his small pack. Recently he even made spaghetti, a food bringing Davie and the rest of the betas back to their human-dwelling days, but with a lack of good portions, they all went to bed without full stomachs.

A smell, however, a nose-wrenching smell of something like carrion hits him in the senses like the wind, and the werewolf halts to pick up the scent. He whimpers to the rest of the pack, who have seemed to skip over the scent and continue their search. Except whatever is in the black woods could be something useful for his pack; if it is, Jools would be grateful, and the alpha may suggest a way to lift his curse.

He darts into the woods like a sneaky criminal, following the sharp trail along the forest floor with his nose pinned to the ground. Davie weaves around trees and puddles, the wet mud sponging up the aroma, and soon he picks up on such a scent that he takes a long step back and growls. It fumigates of smelling surprisingly sick, bloodied, and reeking with a smell of female and humans. It's an injured bitch- a dog.

The gray wolf whimpers, bowing his head, cautious of a possible ambush from a rival clan, but the quiet forest still creaks with crickets and blowing trees. She's alone, out in the cold wind and rain. He pads along quietly up to the figure, getting a better glance.

The first thing she notices is that she is most definitely not a werewolf, for her breed which appears as a husky and german shepherd mix. With shockingly rich red fur and a cream muzzle and undertone, the canine is freakishly thin and absolutely frail, her ribs sticking out like a neon light sign in the night sky. She's surprisingly not a young wolf; her body is well grown, just tiny and weak, with little muscle and thin bones. Her gorgeous fur is matted down and sprayed with blood, her chest rising and falling slowly like she's in a deep, coma-like sleep. He sees her being perhaps a very lean and short human form if she would be a werewolf, instead of a pet dog of a human family.

She hasn't been away from humans for very long, either; a thick pink collar is clipped around her neck, with two tags in the shape of bones hooked around the middle, metal loop. Davie concludes she was- or is- a house dog, and appears like a beloved one. But how did she end up here, in the middle of the forest alone?

Davie barks shortly, hoping to see her wake. She does nothing but continues to breathe, quiet and restful. He nudges her small body with his muzzle, smelling her disgusting odor, wrenching at the idea of the body decomposing on his pack boundary. Jools wouldn't like that the slightest bit, and would quickly send the alphas to dispose of it. But he shivers at that idea; he feels pity for the corpse of a dog, wanting it to thrive on its nimble bones.

If he could drag her back to the house, however, the poor dog could rest in peace and Andrew would have no choice but to properly clean her up and make her a nice bed on the floor from blankets and pillows. If he was careful enough Jools wouldn't be able to smell the rotting creature from his bedroom on the third floor of his house; the white, top alpha was usually shut up in his bedroom at this time in the night, smoking blunts and snorting cocaine like he was a human addict. But he had an amazing sense of scent and sight, so taking the body up to his bedroom would have to be some work from God.

He takes the female's scruff into his mouth and drags her slowly, trying his hardest to stir her so he wouldn't have to carry her himself. But that doesn't happen the slightest; he sees her ear twitch, but that's it. The wolf sighs and carries her from the pool of blood and flies, her body is not surprisingly light.

The walk to the manor isn't a far one from where the pack was hunting. It was on the outskirts of London in the Epping Forest, with good hunting yet easy access to the city for the werewolves to hide in society. Some of the pack even worked in the city part-time, earning bits and pieces of money that allowed them to purchase clothing and food. Davie finds himself tugging the she-dog up the beaten path in a matter of a half-hour, looking for a place to hide her form so he could retrieve a few towels.

Davie tucks the dog under a bush in the front lawn, kicking a few leaves to cover her from the outside eye. Thus he paws up the steps in the house and scratches at the door, wanting inside with a low whimper.

Surprisingly a looming figure saunters it's way up to the door and cracks it open, bleating a hard chuckle and swaying against the frame of the entrance with his blond hair sweeping over his eyes. "Ah-ha, look what the cat dragged in. A lone wolf."

The grey wolf-form whines and bows down to the highest title of his pack, instantly tucking his tail between his legs in fear. Jools wasn't physically scary; he was small for an alpha and had the blond locks of the sand in the ocean, but his attitude and voice made the werewolf avoidable. He sends another cracking laugh into the wolf's ears and crosses his arms against his chest.

"You didn't bring anything back. What? Scared of a little wind and sleet?"

The canine shakes his head, his hazel-red eyes begging for entrance into the house so he could change forms and retrieve his secret from the bushes.

"Well, you're not coming in here to eat, that's for sure," The alpha says, propping the door open for the wolf to trot right through and up the stairs. "Oi, muddy paws, you're cleaning that up!"

Davie darts up to the second floor of the manor and slips through the entrance to his bedroom, slamming the door with his body behind him. He wipes his paws across the wood floor and leaves a few marks in the process before changing into his nude human form. The werewolf finds an old sweatshirt and jeans from his closet, pulling them on and retrieving a few towels from the linen pile as well. Then he exits just as he came, avoiding Jools in the next room over and running out into the bushes.

He strokes the dirty fur of the dog, feeling it's warm touch before tucking towels around its form. The man picks up the creature in his two human, hairy arms and cradles her close for a second, letting her slightly heated breath hit his neck and tingle down his pale skin. She's a precious little thing he's grown attached to in the few moments he's had her in his grasp. Though she smells retched and looks about as carrion as a dead squirrel, he's certain she cleans up well. If she happens to survive and be friendly, well, he won't bother to take her back home and instead keep the dog as a pet. He's always wanted a dog, even before he became the ancestor of the common pet itself.

Up to his bedroom, he returns, hoping the dying smell of the animal doesn't attract any curious noses from members of his pack. The animal twitches as he tiptoes up the creaky staircase, causing Andrew to bite his lip and close the bedroom door immediately after he's in.

With a quiet sigh, he's relieved to start fixing up the poor dog. The man lays a few towels down on the floor underneath the window, cracking the shutters to let some fresh air in. He puts the dog onto an old blanket above the rags, leaving for a moment to collect a first aid kit and a bowl of water.

Davie smiles to himself, setting the cleaning supplies next to his breathing friend and sauntering over to do something to lighten the mood. He and Marcus had purchased an old, antique record player some months ago when they happened to see it on the market streets of Shepherd's Bush and thought it would be a nice investment to their dark bedroom in the manor. The boy shuffles through the collection, selecting a quiet one from the numerous Leonard Cohen records they've accumulated, and returns to the dog as the music cracks on.

He leans down and strokes her fur again, telling her quietly that she's going to be okay. He's not sure personally that she'll even live through the night, but hearing the words leave his tongue at least releases some of the tension in his heart. As he pets her a warm, pink tongue licks his hand, and Davie gasps in excitement, putting his palm out in front of her mouth. She licks it again.

"Good dog." Davie grins, scratching her behind her pointy ears. "I bet you're thirsty. I'll get you some water."

The werewolf fills a shallow dish of water in the kitchen below, one that would normally hold a pie to be baked. Once discovering his pet may be famished as well he fishes a bit of jerky out of the bag and takes that along with the metal dish upstairs carefully. Andrew sets the water in front of her, rubbing her head softly, seeing if she'll drink. She doesn't, but he leaves it there anyway.

"What'd they call you, huh?" Wondering obliviously, he turns the pretty pink collar on her neck towards him and plays with the jangly tags of ownership and shots on the hook, flipping the bone-shaped tag towards him. 'Ginger' and below that, 'If found, call 468-490-8213'.

Well, that's the end of keeping her for good. "Ginger. Isn't that a nice name? A nice name for a sweet dog."

"What in the fucking hell reeks so bad- Ah!" The blond alpha has finally discovered the wretched smell of the canine, startling himself back from the doorway and causing Davie to rise from his feet in fear.

He steps in front of the dog as a half-high Jools saunters into the bedroom with a few wobbly steps, nursing a golden beer between his skinny fingers. A furious scowl finds its way on his lips as he realizes what his packmate has brought in, and grabs Davie by the sleeve to drop hot-heated words into his ears.

"On the count of three you get that fucking wolf out of my house and where it belongs." He sneers, so near that the opposite wrinkles his nose at the scent of weed in his breath. "One.."

"Sir, it's... it's not a w-wolf. It's a-a dog!" He shivers cowardly, hearing the alpha count to the second digit. "I'm helping it, it's hurt."

"If I wasn't high I'd say you look more like a dog than this... thing." The man raises an eyebrow, heading for the neck of the canine before Davie smacks his hand away. "Don't fucking touch me. You've got a dying wolf in my house, does that sound any bit insane to you, at all, Andrew?"

"Don't call me Andrew." He snaps, crouching in front of Ginger to protect her from his needy hands. "It's not a thing or a wolf, sir, it's... she's a dog. Her name is Ginger."

"I don't care what the hell you're calling her, it's a damn wolf and you're not keeping it." He says straightly, prodding at the creature's side with his toe. "She's obviously a red wolf, give or take. Must've been domesticated from America or somethin', these are rare over here. Red wolves are tiny as shit. It's just a runt, skinny too."

If Jools wasn't so high Davie would've probably given into that response and agreed that yeah, Ginger's a wolf, but his words are utter nonsense at this time of night. He sees a dog; a sweet dog, one he'll keep as a pet if the owners don't want it back.

"You're lying, she's got a collar and tags and everything. Rabies shot, dewormed... It's a mugger, Jools." He shrugs, petting her head and receiving a small lick once again. "Runt wolves don't exist."

"Right, right, and you're talking to one, tubby." Julian cackles, taking a sip of his beer and sniffing the creature on the floor with a harsh noise of disgust. "God, that thing's almost dead. Where in the world did you find it?"

"In the middle of the woods, looked dead to me until I saw her breathing," Davie admits, shrugging a shoulder. "I'm glad she's not gone, but I don't have very much hope for her. If she lives, sir, can I think about keeping her? I can train her to hunt if you'd like."

"Whatever she is, Davie, be that a wolf or a dog, she could never hunt for the love of God. She's skin and bones and disgustingly tiny, so much that I wouldn't even throw her in the omega den. Have fun burying her tomorrow morning." The alpha snickers, turning his back on the boy and sauntering out of the bedroom from where he came.

The man lays his head in his hands, rolling his hazel eyes with an annoyed expression. In his heart, he knows Jools isn't too bad of a guy. He's lonely, that's for sure and could benefit from getting clean from all of the hardcore drugs and alcohol he abused. The golden-haired alpha was caring about his pack and a little strict, but all of it was considered to be for the well-being of all of them. He kept great care of Marcus and the higher level packmates and made sure his omegas got food and were clean. But even taking all of this into consideration doesn't make Davie any more upset about what he said about Ginger.

"You're gonna be okay," He says to her quietly, touching her red paw. "I think you're strong. I'll fix you up."

And he tries to do just that. Andrew washes her wounds and matted fur with a warm washcloth before collecting a spool of thread and a needle from an omega downstairs who frequently sewed. He sews up the bigger gaps in her skin, just as his mother had taught him when he was a little boy and needed to fix his teddy bear. The man clips away the large clumps of dirt and grime with scissors so her fur is clean and shiny, and finishes with scrubbing the mud off of her paws.

After she looks presentable and less-dying, Ginger starts to awaken just enough that Davie can see her absolutely stunning, wide eyes of the same color as a flame, sparkling in the dark of his lamplight; the eyes of a canine. He feels his heart tingle and strokes the area around her forehead, giving her affection until she moves enough to lick his hand for the third time tonight.

"That's a good girl, that's a pretty baby." He praises quietly. Nudging the bowl of water towards her snout, he sticks his finger into the liquid and holds it up to her mouth, seeing if she'll lick. She does, her pink tongue curling around it, and going for more once she notices the dish. Ginger takes a few laps of the water, very slowly before setting back in her bed of towels in exhaustion. "Good girl, Ginger. Here, try to eat something. I'm sure you like jerky."

Davie nudges the small piece of meat against her mouth and lets her sniff it, grinning ever-so wide when she eats it between her strong teeth and swallows in a few moments. If she can drink and eat, then she can live through the night. Tomorrow, he decides, he'll call the number on her tag and make sure her owners are aware of her condition. If they don't answer or don't want her, he'll keep her, and somehow find a way for Jools to cope with one of his werewolves having a dog as a pet.

He delivers a few more pieces of jerky to her and even some rice he finds in the fridge, hoping something light will do well in her stomach. She eats that up easily, drinking more water, and allows Davie to sit next to her and pet her. He'd like to show her that he too is a canine to make her feel safer, but his wolf form doesn't always give him the best headspace. Ginger seems calm in his presence anyways, no matter what creature he's portraying.

"Davie?" A sudden, soft voice knocks on the bedroom door. That soft voice can be none other than Marcus Hamblett, with his rich Manchester accent that has occupied his vocal range since he learned to speak. "You in there?"

"Uh, yeah!" Andrew replies hastily, rising from the floor and taking the needle off of the record. Thus he pads over to the door and opens it, bracing a guilty smile. "Before you say anything about the smell in here, I'm gonna get it out, I just have to-"

"Oh! You have a... what exactly is that?" The brunette announces, surprised. He's found Ginger, as the bedroom isn't too big for their pack status, and stops in front of her to sniff the air for a long second. "I can smell Jools, was he in here?"

Like prior mentioned, Marcus is seriously, terribly, and addictively loyal to their alpha. He's at his side in any situation where their pack could be in danger, for Marcus was small and frail and Julian was a monstrosity of a canine form. He was built completely with a coat of rich- very rich- feather white fur, that of which was so delicate and rare that the werewolf was sought after like a diamond. Therefore as his servant, he could both protect and be protected, and Jools was at a different end of a personality spectrum when he treated the young brunette. Considering the blond did, in fact, save him from rape and possible injury, it works to a certain level that they maintain a healthy relationship.

The lighter-haired man shuts the door and locks it with the chain, pacing over to his dog like a protective mother. "Yeah, he came to see what smelled so bad. This is Ginger, I found her bleeding to death in the woods. I think she's a dog, but she's so dirty I can't tell you what exactly that dog is. I'm thinking German Shepherd Husky."

"Oh, um... hey, Ginger." Marcus giggles, leaning down on the old wood floor and studying her face with his matching gold eyes. He cocks his head, smelling the creature with his strong nose. "She's not bleeding internally, that's nice. You know she absolutely reeks of human, Drew, this isn't something you should have on our territory."

"I know, I know," Davie sighs into his hands, slumping down to sit on the edge of his mattress. "But I really wanted to help her, I felt like I've been living my life accomplishing nothing. You know, if I wasn't bitten I could've-"

"I'm sorry, how many times can I say I'm sorry?" The opposite pleads, crossing his legs and looking up with beady eyes. He has the sweetest glare, one that's always been difficult for Davie to be upset at. "I know this isn't what you wanted, and I'm so, so sorry you had to be dragged into this life you're living. But... I mean, we're still together. At least we're doing this together."

"That doesn't mean I want to do this. I don't, I fucking hate what I've become, I wanted to be a musician and make my mum proud and-" Davie melts in tears, rubbing his eyes with his palms quickly. Marcus' face falls solemnly and he sits next to his best friend to comfort him, rubbing his back calmly.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay. Look, we... you can still play guitar, you can still sing. You don't have to live like this, in this pack, you have a chance. I don't, because... well, you know." The smaller man sighs, looking over at the creature on the bed of towels who has started to rise from her feet, before Marcus gasps and opens Davie's face. "Look at that, you have that! She's trying to stand, for god's sake."

"What?!" He grins, rushing to the dog and swinging an arm under her sore limbs. Letting the pressure of her weight rest on him, Ginger can stand properly on three legs with one limp, front leg, which is questionably broken or sore. "Look at you, standing and all. Why, you're quite a strong gal, aren't you?"

The other man, feeling accomplished, sits up from the bed and pets Ginger swiftly on his way to the dresser. "She's quite a pretty one, Davie, are you sure you didn't bite her in the city?"

"No," Andrew giggles, letting the creature down gently after it loses its strength to remain standing. "You know I'm awful at picking up girls. I find them bleeding in the woods and bring them into my bedroom instead."

"Ah, the truth comes out," He nods, lighting a stick of incense to rid the room's smell of fresh blood and open flesh. The werewolf's sense of smell is nothing to be mistaken for by a human's nose, for the creatures can smell for almost two miles the sharp scent of blood, the same as their canine half. "She doesn't seem to be bleeding anymore, you should see if she'll lay on your bed. Maybe that would be more comforting like she's at home."

"That seems practical." He shrugs, petting her soft fur with his palm. "So, here's the plan. I'm gonna call the folks on her tag to see if they want their dog back. If they don't, I'm going to take her straight to the emergency vet and get all of this checked out. I know she won't walk on that leg for a while and she's so thin and battered I can't not get her medical help. After that, well, you're going to have to convince Jools to let me keep her."

Stripping off his dirty clothes from today, the dark-haired creature whips his head around and gives Davie a death stare, his lip quivering. "Oh no, no no no, I want nothing to do with your dirty scheme. I'm not playing little messenger werewolf between you and Jools. I'm loyal to him, you know that."

Andrew sneers, his low grumble turning into a canine growl that rumbles through his body. It, however, doesn't phase Marcus, for the man is already sauntering over to his bed in mere boxers, with evident red claw marks cascading down his skin. He'd been busy with someone.

"Well, I'm not the one who almost got fucking raped in the first place." He snaps, the words echoing through the dark room and lingering in the air as the opposite jets his skull around with a look of pure disgust.

Marcus spats, the brown hair on the back of his neck rising as the heat in his body builds. He longs to tear Davie to shreds, and his dog too, doing the alpha Jools a favor he'd wanted filled for a long time. But as his childhood friend's eyes fill with fear and shame, he takes a deep breath and tugs on his lip.

"I'm going to sleep with Benji, think about what you said." He mumbles, scratching his head and rolling off of the mattress. Grabbing his pillow harshly, the beta makes his way to the door with heavy-set feet. "Hard to believe I used to call you my best friend."

"Hard to believe I used to think you were straight." As he rises from the wood floor where he was tending to Ginger and her health, he meets deadset yellow eyes with the same pigment.

"Excuse me?" The werewolf sputters, the tips of his pointed ears shallowing behind the thick locks of chocolate hair on his head.

"I know what you're doing with him," Davie mutters lowly, his face turned to the floor. "I see those marks every day and I don't bother to question them because I'm a good friend. Jools' fur isn't as white as it used to be, you know, it's absolutely littered with brown shed. You can't hide it, it's so goddamn obvious."

"I..." Turning his body towards the door in uttermost shame, Marcus near whimpers underneath his breath at the mention of Jools' smooth coat. It's never occurred to him how obvious the situation was, how blatantly stupid they were being. So stupid that his best friend was noticing it the entire time. "Don't talk to me anymore. I don't want anything to do with you."

"Marcus, listen to me, you yell at me every single day about being "unloyal" to this pack. Have you not considered, even once, that that blond motherfucker has a mate? Georgie isn't someone you need to be playing kid games with, she's the alpha female and she means business when it comes to Jools. I don't want you to get hurt, okay? As much as I hate what I am, I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt." Tracing his bare foot along the ridges of the natural oak wood flooring, scratched beyond buffer with claw marks and stress from the heavy pads of a wolf's paw, the man tries to muster something up that sounds like an apology. "I'm trying to protect you."

"We're adults, Drew, we don't protect each other anymore. Let me do what I want; Jools makes me feel something I've never felt for another person in my life. I'm not going to lose that just because my best friend is afraid I'm going to get hurt. I'm already hurt beyond repair." Older by just a month than his colleague, the werewolf's last words to exit his mouth are ones Davie never wanted to hear. "Grow up, asshole. I don't need you anymore."


	2. The River's Cracked & Cold

Pain.

Pain is all that withers through her muscles and bones, her bloodstream aching, overworking itself. Pain seeps down her skull, into her jaw, pooling saliva off of her yellowed teeth and onwards where gravity pulls it. She can't close her mouth, the shock from her throbbing build is too much stress that she pants heavily, constantly, dryly through her sand-dry throat and lungs. The breathing is forced but necessary; without oxygen, she would be but a broken, rotting corpse on the floor, for her injuries are so severe it would require the work of a God to let her rise and stand.

Dark.

Ginger's surroundings are black. And by black, it's so vague that not a light is seen through the slits of her exhausted, droopy eyes. Ahead of her, a window, the glass is unnoticeable because of the outside world's color. She hasn't seen anything so dark in her life, not even in her few dreams. The city was always radiant, no matter the angle of the window; skyscrapers, cars, double-decker buses, businesses, and pubs. Always shining some sort of light onto the street among the large lamps that traced the edge of the asphalt street that burned the pads of her feet to a char on hot summer days. And the light in the house, of course; the nightlight in the hallway, the reflection of the outside world on the blank television screen down to the wood floor, the security light just outside of the townhouse's front door. She can't trace her brain for a moment in her life that she has been surrounded by so much blackness.

Someone else is in the room. Someone breathing, snoring. They snore like a grizzly bear but smell nothing resembling the big, tough creature that brings itself into Ginger's worst nightmares to eat her in one bite. They smell like the woods, the wilderness, like sweat and mud. The scent she is familiar to is nowhere to be found in a mile of air; no humans. She is very, very far from the city, farther than she's ever been in her entire life. An eventide of beginnings for the girl was quite astonishing.

A whimper escapes her jaw, crackly and jagged. She's scared, she wants to go back home. Her masters would be worried by now that she was missing, especially on such a dark evening. Why exactly she is missing doesn't come straight to mind, but she guesses the creature sleeping next to her on the soft mattress could have something to do with it. He- she's picked up on his gender by the strong scent of his glands- must be the culprit of her pain and suffering. Ginger needs to get out of these hereabouts, needs the familiar lights of the city. There she could get help, help from someone she trusts. Here, it's no use but to whine and hopefully have her wishes granted.

"Ginger?" The being mutters next to her, the breath in his body quickening as he awakens from the noise of her cries. Yes, that's my name, she thinks, letting a bark escape her drooling jaws. Flicking on the lamp next to him and finally filling the room with a soft light that Ginger longed for, he turns a bearded glare towards her and rubs his eyes to study her. "Oh, you're awake."

She yelps, whimpering under her breath and wagging her bushy tail. Assist me, she barks, get me out of here. His expression softens, and he rubs his open chest in a small scratch with his fingernails.

"Now now, be still, you have open wounds, my friend." The man chuckles quietly, crawling out from underneath the old and dusty quilt she's laying atop. Padding across the floor with feet of a human, he nears her slowly and offers his hand out. Ginger wearily sniffs it, smelling the same smell of the wilderness on his skin. "Good morning to you, too. You scared me for a moment there, yelping and crying out so loudly. I'm sure you can't understand me, but I'm extremely pleased to see you made it through the night. You're strong, aren't you, girl?"

Please stop talking and take me home, she wags, begging with a lick to his hand. You're friendly, but you need to get me out of here.

"You're such a good girl," He sighs pleasantly with drowsy hazel pupils, pupils of yellow and red. Ginger's never seen such such brilliant, odd eyes of a human form, ones that almost seem unbelievable and dream-like at first glance. With a small gesture, the human-like creature pats her fur with his palm, stroking it back calmly. "We're going to get along so well, you know, if they let me keep you."

Keep me? She barks, growling. You'll never keep me, you're my way out of here.

"Now, Ginger, there's nothing to be afraid of. I'll protect you, the guys in the pack won't be able to touch you." Andrew giggles once again, rubbing behind her pointy red ears. "Not even Jools. I hope he'll learn to like you."

Ginger folds her ears back, begging for words of aid. He just grins and rises from his closeness, heading towards the front door- an exit.

"Now, I'm going to go get us some breakfast. Sit tight, please, I don't need you getting any more hurt than you already are." At that he heads out and shuts the heavy-set door behind him, a sigh escaping the canine's lips as she comes to the conclusion that her way out of here isn't as easy as a door. She would need to be patient until she could walk, and then possibly the man would take her outside of the dark, strange bedroom.

Ginger lays her head in her paws, tired, exhausted. As soon as she's falling into a deep slumber the man with the weird eyes returns, carrying a porcelain plate between his human hands that smells the closest to heaven the she-wolf can imagine. Bacon and eggs.

"I bet that smells good, doesn't it?" Davie cackles happily, shutting the door again and locking it with the chain deadlock above. Past the dog does he follow to the bed, a cup of coffee in his opposite grasp and a fork to join the mug. The canine raises it's head as high as it can, eager to catch a wiff of the delicious animal he has plated. "Don't get so impatient, I'm not looking to share just yet. I'm absolutely starving, Ginger, you're just going to have to wait."

She whimpers at the news, looking hungrily up at the man as he digs into his food. Drinking the occasional sip of coffee, the creature reads quietly at a novel located on his bedside table, turning the page when he finds it necessary. Eventually, after many moments of uncomfortable, hollow stomach growls, he sets the food down and in his hand holds one piece of greasy, crispy bacon.

Ginger wags her tail, drool falling out of her jaws as he approaches her with the stick of meat. Before she can lunge for the food he carefully smacks her nose, pointing a finger at her.

"No, that's not how we ask for food. I take pity in the fact that you're injured, but that doesn't mean you're just going to get the last piece of my precious bacon. I can't eat again until lunch, you understand?" He says sternly, a small spark of humor in his tone. The dog looks up at the food with sparkling yellow eyes, whining underneath her dry breathing. "I wonder if you know any tricks. Can you speak?"

Ginger's ears perk up immediately and she lets out a howl, one that causes Davie to set his palm against her muzzle to silence her. He doesn't want to get caught having a dog in his possession.

"Shh, you can speak for sure. Here you go." Handing over the bacon, his hand almost gets swallowed into jaws of sharp, clean teeth as she gobbles up the food so quickly. Laughing, Andrew pets his friend on her neck. "Good girl. We should get you some real dog chow if I keep 'ya, that way you can eat out of a bowl and not take my hand along with it. Speaking of which, I should call your folks."

My folks? Ginger thinks, licking the grease off of her chops. He must mean my masters! That was easier than I expected.

Davie carefully unclips the dirty pink collar around her neck, laughing uneasily as she nudges it with her nose to get it back. He takes his cell phone out and types in the number on the back of her tag, waiting as the line rings.

"Hello?" Someone answers, a man, and Andrew lets out a sigh of shame. He knew Ginger was too good and friendly to be forgotten, and that she likely had a lovely home in the city to thrive in. Packhouses weren't the best places to raise a dog.

"Hi there, I'm calling about your dog, Ginger. I have her in custody." He mutters, fiddling with the ring around her collar and listening to it jingle in a happy chime. "I found her in the woods, she's not doing well but-"

"Dog? That's no dog, mate," The older man expresses, letting Davie raise an eyebrow at the response. "That's some otherworldly shit, I want nothing to do with her and her fucking crazy powers."

"Excuse me?" The werewolf spats, upset that someone could be so mean about such a lovely creature; the creature who's sniffing his ear as he speaks. "I'll have you know she would've died if I wouldn't have found her last night, what kind of asshole would dump an animal out like that?!"

"I don't care what you do with her, just don't call me again. I didn't smuggle a wolf over here for it to not be a wolf at all. Fuck off, mate."

And at that the man hangs up the telephone, leaving the line with a blank buzz. Andrew drops his phone to the floor, processing the information. He has a pet wolf now; that's cool, he'll just have to convince Jools that she's sturdy and can withstand the lifestyle he lives. But crazy powers? What does she do, fly?

"Well Ginger, I'm not really sure what I want to think, but all I can say is I'm your new master and you and I are going to have to get along." With long breathe escaping his lips, the brunette settles down onto the floor with Ginger's head resting on his shoulder, her hot breath cascading down his skin. His fingers find her chin, rubbing the short hairs with his nails. "I want you to know you can trust me. And not just for food and whatnot, but I feel like you and I were meant to meet, and I'm here to keep you safe."

The wolf whines, devastated at his words. She's not going home, quite sadly, and she's here to stay until she can escape. Though her heart trusts the man that pets her so softly, it's not enough for her to want to stay. This place smells different; and not in a good way. Ginger doesn't think she's the only one of her kind around.

"I know, baby, I'm sorry you can't go home. This is your new home now." Andrew says quietly, brushing up against her head. He'll sleep next to her in his feral form tonight, he decides, as that's the fairest idea of comfort the werewolf can muster up. Fur to fur, his head resting against her neck in a claiming position. "We'll get you fixed up, I promise."

Now to borrow Winston's truck.

After washing the wolf up to a stable condition in order for the public eye to think her not feral, Davie fixes himself up to also look presentable to the societal eye. The brunette wasn't very comfortable going out in much of a human state, for he thought he could have trouble staying sane and answering people's questions about his eye color, but he would admit that London gave him the confidence he always needed. It was big, it was beautiful, and all-in-all, it was home.

He slips on good clothing- a black button-up shirt and jeans and drapes a denim jacket over the look to complete it. The man snaps Ginger's collar back onto her neck, making sure she looked presentable and spraying some cologne both on himself and the dog to mask his identity.

"Now," He says to Ginger, pointing a finger in her face. "Please stay here and stay put. I'm going to go downstairs and take care of something, then I'll be right back. Yes?"

She looks at him blankly; confused. Andrew just chuckles, petting her on her head before locking the bedroom door and treading down the staircase, avoiding careful eyes of his fellow packmates. At the end of the main floor is a door, an old door; the door to the basement. He opens it quietly and toes down the stairs immediately welcomed with greetings and admires.

"Davie!" Liza runs up to the man, giving him a big bear hug. The Omegas of his pack were among some of the nicest, most genuine beings he had ever come across, despite their title and dingy way of life beneath the otherwise appealing brick manor. "Look at you, all dolled up. Business in town?"

"Um, you could say that." He gives the brown-haired girl a toothy smile, scanning the large dark basement for one of his closest friends.

The Omega den is an interesting subject; it is a basement, of course, but it's at the minimum that. The occupants were creative with their small space of sleeping and hanging out with couches and lounge areas, fairy lights and lamps, and the area always smelled of incense and smoke instead of a damp, wet smell that it would usually hold. Though it only had two very small bedrooms the omegas made do, and crafted the best of bunk beds and hammocks to rest in. Davie had always enjoyed being down here despite being a higher beta, and the people of the den loved him for his generosity and humor.

"I'm looking for Win, is he in?" Andrew asks Liza as she makes herself comfortable on the leather sofa and pats the seat that he denies silently; too much to worry about to chill right now.

"Yeah, I think so, I saw him at breakfast," She answers, picking at her nails. "Winnie!"

"Hm?" Comes a higher-pitched masculine tone from the corner, where a scraggy-haired werewolf is nuzzled into a recliner with dark, almost black locks of hair falling over his even darker yellow eyes. His eyes buried in a novel, the cheery-faced boy lifts his head and seems overly thrilled to see Davie has made strides down to the Omega den. "Davie, hey! What brings you to our cave of desolation and despair, my mate?"

The opposite grins, reddening to admit his question. "Say, I... I need to borrow your truck. For like, a few hours maybe. It's not anything major, I just have some errands in town I need to accomplish pronto."

"Oh," Winston mutters, dog-earing the page of his book. "I mean sure, yeah, you can take it. Not like Jools wouldn't make me give it to you anyways."

"Sorry, I really appreciate it." Andrew grimaces, dragging his sneakered foot across the hard concrete floor. He hated being superior to such lovely people, and the fact that strength and build had much to do with that ranking brought him a sense of unworthiness. Winnie was an amazing guy, one who the beta was well-aware would've had a great opportunity in life had he been born human. "Owe you?"

"Sure, whatever," The omega seems to say sarcastically, rising from his spot and following to one of the bedrooms. Soon he returns with the set of keys to his beloved Ford, tossing them to Davie. "I dunno how much gas she has, I can give you a few bucks to fill it up."

"No worries," He smiles weakly, tucking the keys into his jean pocket. "I can fill it up, I've got money. Thanks so much. I owe you a favor."

"I'll take your word for it." Winston flicks his chin, shooting bullets with his fingers to his friend. "I just hope you're not using my truck for sexual favors."

"Exactly what I'm using it for." Heading up the stairs, Andrew grips the metal keys in his hands, feeling the ridges along his calloused padded fingers. "See ya, Omegas."

~*~

"Oh, settle down now," The man cooes softly, his hand reaching over from the steering wheel to pleasantly pat Ginger on her soft-furred skull. She cries under his touch, shaking and shivering with anticipation- she knows exactly the route in the city where Davie plans on taking her. "They won't hurt you now, my friend, you're going so you can feel better."

He reaches into the greasy paper bag at his feet of fast food, digging out from the bottom a long, dripping french fry of golden oiled yellow. Waving it in front of the canine's face, the werewolf watches in glory as she snatches it from his nimble fingers and swallows the unhealthy treat in one gulp, licking her chops afterward in satisfaction.

"Good girl, good girl..." Andrew grins wickedly, putting his eyes back on the road to safely pull into the emergency veterinarian clinic. He contemplated taking her somewhere more... exotic, per se, but considering she seemed to be more of the domestic type this was a better bet. At least if he couldn't get her help, they would refer him to somewhere else in town. "You'll be just fine. I'll be right there."

Carrying the weighted canine in his burly arms into the establishment, Davie wipes a bead of sweat from the skin above his eyebrows and takes a deep breath. Hopefully, nobody would look him straight in the eyes, for they know his kind isn't necessarily docile.

"Hi there, what can I- oh!" The woman at the desk pauses, her hazel eyes looking at the sight up and down. She seems to freeze under her white vet coat, the snow-colored garment picking up no movement or breeze whatsoever. The brunette curses his move and adjusts a hand to show the leash tied around Ginger's neck- she was domesticated, and that he would possibly be her owner. "Could you put that down for a moment? I need to get someone."

"She can't stand, I'm sorry." The man mutters, strengthing his grip around the animal that tries so desperately to release and run in fright of the shiny tile floor. "Has some broken bones, she got... hit by a car."

That's the best excuse for this sort of situation, he finds himself mentally agreeing, bracing a possibly-friendly smile and bearing his yellow teeth.

The lady has already left the front desk, in search of help, and in moments the brunette returns with a female of around the same age, who gasps in (surprise!) a delightful expression. Ginger seems to wag a little bit, her fluffy red tail moving under Davie's arms.

"Ginger! Hello, you don't look so well, my friend." The blond steps around the desk and approaches Andrew and his new pet, reaching an open palm out for investigation of the wolf's nose. After making relations with the animal she turns up to the towering werewolf, cautious of his form. "You're not Paul, how'd you get hold of my favorite patient?"

"Oh, um..." He stutters, hiding his yellow eyes in the creature's fur. "Ginger was surrendered to me, I live out in the country and it was by best choice that she has space to roam. As you can see, however, she went a bit too far and got in some trouble with a truck. Paul is already aware, so I came to get her some help."

"Ah, I see." The vet grins somberly, petting the wolf behind the ears. "She is domestic after all, born and raised with the life of a lazy dog. I wouldn't be so surprised if she didn't know the difference between a dirt road and a backyard. We'll get her fixed up, come along."

Davie nods, hoisting the canine up higher in his grasp and tightening his palm around the handle of her lead down a corridor of offices. "So... she could never be released into the wild?"

"Oh no, honey, she's as domestic as they come. As far as I know, you should be keeping her on a chain if you live outside of the city, otherwise, her senses might lead her somewhere and she'd never come back."

That makes the boy smile a bit; he was raising a dog, a dog in the form of the animal he's most familiar with- a wolf.

"Do you know her background?" Tucking into the examination room and ducking his head underneath the doorway, Davie sets Ginger on the table as the vet instructs and holds her up, careful that her skinny legs don't support any weight. "I didn't really get much information on her, other than her name and the fact that she's not a dog."

"Could you hold her still for a minute as I feel around her legs? You mentioned possibly a broken limb, correct?" He nods and grips the red wolf still in his arms, wincing at the heartbreaking yelp that escapes her lips as the women pinches at her left leg- broken. "Ouch, that's broken for sure. Anything else before I x-ray it?"

"Oh, uh... jaw, her jaw has been limp ever since she woke up. I had her eat some food and drink some water but chewing doesn't come easy. Maybe her hip, too?" Once again Ginger screams as her limbs are pinched and prodded at it with plastic gloves, and just as before it shatters Andrew's heart to listen to her whine in pain so loudly. Whoever did this to her could go to hell. "Will she need surgery?"

The vet sighs, peeling the gloves off of her pale hands and pinching her bottom lip with her professionally-whitened teeth. "I hate to tell you this, but I can assume she'll at least be here overnight. We'll do some x-rays and look at her bone structure, but she'll at least need some work done on her front leg."

"O.K." The werewolf mutters, watching the fear build up in Ginger's eyes. He was hoping she could rest at home, in his bedroom, tonight; however taking into consideration how utterly beat up she is, there's no guessing she'd spend a few nights in the emergency room. "I just want her to get better. Have you known her for a while now?"

"Ever since she was a pup," The vet smiles, gesturing for the man to lift his dog from the table. They would head down to the x-ray room now, so the professionals could get a better see at how exactly her bones were shattered. "She's about six if you were curious. Her owner Paul and his girlfriend are from the States, and Ginger happened to be a little "project" they took on. You see, red wolves aren't found in the wild much anymore, they were all hunted out, so when the chance came to take a puppy from one of the first litters in captivity you better bet they took advantage."

"That's not nice, why would someone do such a thing?" He frowns significantly, looking down at the shaking creature in his arms. She deserved a life with a family of her own kind- not among humans in a dirty city like London. "She should've been released into the wild to rekindle the population, right?"

"Money can buy everything if you have enough," The blond shrugs, sorting out a few things on the table in the dark room. "Red wolves are one of the smallest breeds of wolves, and they're not exactly favored either because of their relation to coyotes; they're a bit more docile and will come closer to humans in the wild. Ginger here is a great example of domestication; what her owners did was wrong, yes, but she's just as smart as any other household dog. She wouldn't run away if she could."

"That's good to know." He taps on the exam desk, watching as a black brace is fitted around the wolf's body for the x-ray. "She looks malnourished. What should I do once she gets out of this place?"

"She, sadly, is very malnourished and has always been pretty skinny. I don't believe Paul ever gave her any raw meat or protein of that sort that a wolf would need, instead just regular old dog chow from the grocery. I would start with that, maybe some raw bacon, and make sure she gets plenty of outside time. Not that I doubt you won't, I know you don't live anywhere near the city. The forest, more likely?"

"How do you know that?" He thins his eyelids, ears twitching in bother. The vet just smirks her little human lips, putting a protective coat over Ginger's chest area.

"Sweetheart, you're eight and a half feet tall. You have yellow eyes and ears so pointy they could cut." She mutters, caring for the wolf on the table. "You and Ginger have a very similar bone structure, you know."

Andrew feels a lump in his breast rise, and he coughs to release the power residing among the sharp pain humming in his chest. He wouldn't be so scared if he was in contact with the human outside of a public workplace- he would tear her to pieces, or better yet, call one of the alphas and personally have her removed. His yellowing eyes glimmer and the veterinarian pays no mind to her guest, tending to the patient on the table as if the words had not escaped her pink lips.

"You'd think I would be shocked to be talking to you, a werewolf, but to be completely honest I've personally operated on your kind. You're no harm to me, honey." She snickers and Ginger lets out an unexpected howl of pain. Pressing down on the area to set the injury, the blond mutters something that causes the werewolf's canine blood to boil. "Being a werewolf is just as bad as being a terrorist; you'll always be feared and hated, no matter how nice you come up to be."


	3. The Sky Is No Man's Land

The London night is dark and dreary as Jools rushes through the parking lot, his hood up to his pointy white ears through the cold. The music from the houses blares and hurts his hearing, for he has the sharpest sense in all of these streets by far. The alpha doesn't do parties, mostly because of the music (he would only be there for the drugs), and besides, he can have his own party at home by getting a few omegas high.

The short boy pushes through a crowd of jocks, his arms grabbing for open air in the bustle of the college party gig. The lights scream with the beat of the music, flashing harsh white and red and orange, making the pupils of the werewolf shrink. He sniffs in the air for a moment, searching for a particular stench that he's oh-so-familiar with. Cannabis is his only reason for being in the city; he already has enough cocaine to last him until the end of the month.

"Hey, mate, I need you to sell me some stuff." He taps on the shoulder of a brunette with large, muscled arms, knowing the deed well. The boy turns around, raising his eyebrows at the sight.

"Yeah, okay, you are..." The jock meets his cold, brown eyes with red, and they dart up to the ends of his ears, furry and white. His beard is thick and bushy, tracing all the way up to his golden locks of hair. And not to mention big fangs poking out, ready to bite whenever necessary. "You're a werewolf. I'm innocent, don't hurt me."

"Nah, mate, I'm just here for weed." He chuckles, sticking his sharp teeth out just to prove his motive. "I'll bite your friends another day. Do y'a got any zips on y'a?"

"Fuck, you're really serious. Hey, Bradley, come 'ere. This guy's a real werewolf."

A man of darker hair approaches, his eyes lighting up in disbelief. "No way, I thought they lived way out in the wilderness. What's the deal with a college party?"

"I want weed," Jools giggles from his mouth, long tongue licking his lips. "You kids are the best people to get it from. Can you give me the stuff so I can get out of here? The music kills my ears."

"What's your rank? You've got brilliant eyes." Questions the boy, leaning up to stare into the blood-red pupils of the werewolf in his human form.

The blond grins, eating up all of the attention. "I'm the alpha male. No joke. Only one with red eyes."

There's been a small gathering of people now partaking in the questioning of the man, who blushes pink and stuffs his hands into his old jeans. Before he can talk about how he managed to become the alpha in the first place, a scream is heard from the upstairs of the frat house, one that makes Julian's ears bleed internally.

"What the hell was that?" He mutters, covering his pointy ears as they ring. Most of the party hasn't seemed to notice the noise, drinking and talking over the pounding beats as usual.

"I didn't hear anything," The dealer shrugs, finally reaching into his pocket and counting change to hand over to Jools. The blond takes the zip and puts it in his coat pocket, patting it safely. "Hey, don't be a stranger. I want to know how much sex you're getting being the alpha and all."

"Yeah, yeah," And the scream is heard again, causing the blond to wave off the boys and head up the stairs, just to inspect. He can't wait to get back and smoke a joint, laying in the bathtub up to his neck and letting an omega rub his sore feet.

The hallway is hot and dim, and Jools squints his eyes as he follows the shrill of whimpers and voices. In a room to the west, he discovers it, cracking the door open to meet eyes with two boys and a boy on the bed, the victim with tape over the mouth and loopy as he struggles.

His heart wells at the sight, feeling a deep, unexplainable depth. Rarely does the alpha feel emotions for anyone, let alone humans that aren't his kind. The victim's scream sounds so helpless and terrified, so longing that the wolf can't help but reach for the knife in his pocket and bear it willingly.

"What the hell are you guys doing to him!? Get off, I'll call the police!" Julian cries, stepping into the room to help the rape victim. The tallest boy has his jeans unbuttoned and his member pulled out, and the opposite holds a smartphone camera. On the bed, a halfway nude brunette mutters incoherently, obviously drugged to induce the attack.

"Put the knife down and shut the door." The man with the phone insists, stepping back up against the wall. He seems a bit more fearful than his partner, who slaps the boy on the bed on the cheek and starts to crawl above him. "Join us, no need to call the police."

"Drop the phone, give me the boy." The blond walks slowly with the tip of the knife pointed towards the guys' throats, his long teeth dripping saliva and snarling in anger. His claws grow against his hands and feet, ready to tear into their skin if they don't give into his pleads.

"Dude, chill..." The boy on the bed says frightenedly. "What are you, a werewolf?"

"Maybe." And at once he lunges, the knife cutting into the throat of the bystander. It leaks blood as the boy falls to the wood floor, the body aching and screaming in pain. Opposite does the rapist dart for the door before Jools throws his weapon and lands it right in the heart of his spine, sending him tumbling to the ground. With the men dealt with, he goes over to the victim and rips the tape and restraints with his claws, smacking his face to unfaze him. "Wake up for me, C'mon, wake up!"

"Mmm," The boy mutters, his eyelids fluttering open before he looks into the werewolf's red eyes and passes out in shock. Disappointed and with footsteps sounding up the staircase, Julian does the last thing he wants to do for the poor brunette. He bites him, injecting him with his lethal poison.

"C'mon, don't be heavy," Jools whispers under his breath, licking the blood from his neck before hoisting the boy into his strong arms. The taste of the victim's sweet, warm blood is amazing on his tongue as he retrieves his knife and starts down the stairs with his prey; he had forgotten how fantastically metallic its flavor is.

As soon as the werewolf is seen with a bloody college kid and a bloody knife in the vicinity, chaos arrives. People flee in terror, screaming for their lives, dialing the police as quickly as their little thumbs can tap at the screen. Julian takes no wasted time taking his prey towards the door; he pushes through the crowd, growling, eyes glowing and fangs unsheathed to release a killing bite.

As he reaches the door and shifts the boy over his shoulder to turn the knob, a quite towering boy shoves his way in front of the entrance and growls himself, trying to be intimidating. Dorky with thick glasses and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, he sets a foot in Jools' path, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Did you kill him?" He sniffles, not afraid to speak his mind to the creature. "Did you kill my best friend?"

The blond snorts, still licking the cherishing flavor of blood against his lips. He could go for another kill. "Of course I didn't kill him. I killed his human part, your friend is now a werewolf and he'll be coming back with me. I quite like him already."

The man takes a stab up at the bleeding brunette, his neck with a gash like a ravine from the impact of the werewolf's bite. The injury would heal once he made his first transformation and afterward would remain a scar for the rest of his long life. He tenses, letting out a long breath of air.

"Will he remember me?"

"Sure, buddy. Listen, I gotta go, the police are gonna be here any second and I can't really afford to have a bleeding college boy and zip of marijuana on my record." He says, trying to shove past the boy. But much to his one available arm and the opposite's surprisingly tough frame, he can't really make much progress. "Move it, asshole."

"Bite me," He says quickly, insisting, showing his neck. "Just do it."

"Hey, listen, I would, but I really have to go and I'm not in the mood for games-"

"I said do it. I told Marcus I would do anything for him and I know him too well. He won't like being a werewolf on his own. Just do it and we can avoid the cops. Take me where you're taking him." The boy begs, making a motion at his exposed skin. "Hurry."

Julian sighs, running a hand through his blood-stained blond locks. He takes a stab at the commotion and the cop cars signaling at the end of the street. He has to get out. Now. "Okay, just... come with me. I'll make sure your friend- Marcus, that's a lovely name, by the way- sees you again before he turns. Just open the door and tell me you can hide a body."

"I can hide a body."

Marcus stifles up a small snort of annoyance, feeling sorry for himself. "When you tell the story like that it makes me feel guilty. Should I have yelled at Davie like that?"

The alpha raises his nose, it twitching for a second before he flexes his foot in the boy's palm, suggesting he continues with his rubbing. It's not anytime soon Julian intends to get out of the wash tub; he quite likes the hot water, and the fact that his favorite beta will rub his feet whenever he asks makes the situation solely enjoyable.

"Of course you should have yelled. He blames you for the rape and his situation, that's the worst thing he could think about you. It was solely his decision to do what he did; I was perfectly pleased taking you back here myself. I would've made you my personal servant eons ago if he wouldn't have dragged his fat ass along and ripped up the magical storybook."

The brunette waves a hand through his falling locks, blushing slightly at the words. He leans down and kisses the feet of the higher, lips against soft, overly pale skin. "You really mean it? You would've made me your servant?"

He nods his head, red eyes closed as he rests against the tile at the edge of the bathtub, exhaling a breath of smoke from the cigarette burning in his palm. "You make a fine one. I just wish your title didn't mean so much, you do omega work for the same price."

Marcus smiles halfway, working his knuckles through the alpha's heel. "I don't mind. I like doing things for you. You saved me... and I always feel like I can't owe you enough."

Jools cackles, his hand reaching up to stroke his head. The smaller boy wanes into the affection, whimpering slightly. It's rare that he ever gets physical attention in any sort of relationship, and it's so shocking whenever he realizes how much he lacks it.

"You're very sweet. I believe you have proven your loyalty to this pack many times more, but what I would really like to see is your loyalty to me. There is a lot I can give you, but you need to be willing to put in the effort to prove you're worthy."

"What type of things are you referring too?" Marcus wonders obliviously, his ears flicking in curiosity. If he was in his natural state his tail would be wildling circling, anxiously excited. The opposite just yawns, splashing his face and dunking his feet into the water for a final rise. He was finished with his evening bath.

"I think you know deep down what I'm referring to," Jools says simply, combing his wet hair back in the mirror after slipping into his bathrobe. The long locks on his head gather around his ears, growing as ever and making him look a bit sloppy. He could use a good cut soon if the time was available. "You're not stupid, Marcus."

The man runs red from neck to forehead, hiding his blush as the pads out to the master bedroom in order to set the alpha's bed for him. As Julian joins a moment later he presses back on the beta's shoulder, trapping it between the headboard. Looming over him, the blond places a few frustrated kisses down his neck, hot and quick.

"If I'm not mistaken, your least favorite person on this side of the ocean is Georgie." He mutters, breath tickling the boy's chest. Marcus grows limp in his hold, leaning up to nip at his earlobes. Their affection towards each other is natural; they behave like wolves in the bedroom, and would most likely prefer to be around each other in their canine form would it not have been for the lack of speech.

"What makes you say that? I don't hate her, she's just-"

"-in the way?" He raises his tone, amused, tongue gliding across the opposite's bottom lip. Marcus grows pale, his secret exposed. The older man simply chuckles, not bothered the slightest. "Love, I have the power to make you Luna any damn day. The only reason I choose to keep Georgie around is because-"

"-she's fertile, I know." The man sighs, directing his head to the side to silently suggest he's done with their little lip game. Jools' expression falls, and he ushers a hand to his cheek to turn it before Marcus chokes up, his anger rising. "What the fuck am I doing, Jools? I can't be anything more to you than your little call boy. I don't even know why I try anymore!"

"Hey, hey, you're being hard on yourself. Look at me." Marcus whimpers up a 'no', sounding desperate. "Marcus Alan Hamblett, give those stupidly sad yellow eyes over to me this instant or I'll feed you to the rivals."

He weakly brings his head up, his golden-yellow eyes connecting with the man's own. Julian smiles at that, stroking the small goatee across his face in order to comfort him.

"You are nothing close to a call boy to me. I know that's what you used to be, but you're not human anymore because my filthy self turned you into a monster, and my filthy self knows that decision was the best decision I've made in a very long time. No, you're not fertile, and you can't make me beautiful pups like Georgie can. But that doesn't mean you can't be my little secret, huh? Be my secret mate?"

Marcus' mouth drops open. "You wouldn't."

"I think I would."

"No, you're high. You wouldn't."

"I haven't had anything in my system since this morning." He says confidently, running his fingertips along the juncture of his neck and shoulder. This makes the boy freeze up even more; he knows exactly what Jools would intend on doing with the area; if he was serious, of course. "Do you want this?"

"Y-You can't mark me. Someone will find out. I have no way to cover that, I can't just act as if it came out of the sky." He stutters, so overcomes with the fact that Julian is even offering such a task. Are Marcus' dreams coming true?

"Casanova," He chuckles, shaking his head. "I wouldn't make you my mate tonight. No, you'll have to prove your worthiness. Then, maybe, we'll talk about you taking that title, hm?"

The brunette nods his head, understanding. Though he can openly admit that he was overthinking in even the thought of being the alpha's mate, it was near impossible. He wasn't a she, an alpha, nor a purebred. He was none of the elements Julian would search for in a mate; a beta, a rape victim, young and stupid. But the chance to earn a liking by the man? Well, he simply couldn't pass that up. Not in a million light years or by the howl of the moon. "What do I have to do?"

"You'll have to be imaginative," The blond shrugs, rolling off of his friend and settling onto the old bed with a subtle thump. He brushes his eyes sleepily, letting out a long, treacherous yawn and showing canines longer than a blade of grass. It stung when he bit during intercourse; those teeth were sharper than a dagger, leaving blood in their tracks if he became engulfed in the act enough. But of course, this was never a fear of Marcus', for though the bite could kill he never bit hard enough to kill his favorite beta. "I'm not certain I know how far you would go for me. You're loyal, yes, but not dependable enough to-"

"I'd kill for you, J," Marcus says straight, the hair on his neck raising in fear of himself. Would he really, or was that just talk? Certainly, in battle he was prepared to take Jools' side and destroy anyone that dare touch his alpha, but so would any other member of the pack (set aside Davie and possibly Winnie, they really didn't bother for life itself). How far would he honestly go for the title?

"I don't think you would, Marcus. Now get some sleep." The alpha mutters weakly, his long tongue licking his chops before settling underneath his age-old quilt. It was torn in most places due both to the years spent using the blanket, but also because he preferred to do intercourse in his natural form. Claws dug into the quilt far too often, causing the rag to look ravished by rats instead of casual use. "I said sleep. I hear you breathing heavily and you haven't turned the lamp off."

"Sleep? Right here?" The beta frowns, his gold eyes glowing in the dim orange light. It wouldn't be the initial time, of course, that he had slept in the man's bed, but it would more-so be the first time Julian proposed the idea himself. Carelessly, too.

"Sure, whatever," He answers half-awake, kicking his feet around underneath the sheets. "If you want to make me pleased you'd shift and keep me warm with your fur. It's not like this manor isn't full of broken windows. It's drafty on the third floor."

"I'd do anything for you, so I suppose." He smirks like a madman and luckily snaps the light off quick enough that Jools wouldn't be able to notice it. After tearing his clothing off and suffering a few grunts through transformation, his coffee-colored coat blends with the dark floorboards. The canine settles peacefully next to the build of the alpha, feeling how he sinks into his fur. Marcus whimpers contently, a gigantic yawn crawling out of his jaws.

"Your breath smells like a wolf," The blond giggles, wrapping one paw around his chest and tracing Marcus' sharp claws with the pads of his fingers. "It's atrocious. Well, goodnight, dream well, you big dog."

The werewolf snuffles his nose in acknowledgment, tail wagging slightly at the parting. His chest fills with warmth, a small remember at the back of his mind that if he tried hard enough, this could be his usual life, and his usual bedtime procedure. Nothing more would he adore to have a life spent at Julian's side, even if that meant continuing to act as his servant and used both as a sex doll for the alpha to release his anger upon and a surface to snort cocaine off of. No, he loved those things more than he loved the full moon. He would do anything for Jools, he settles. Even exterminate a man, if that's what it took. He would just have to think of something so awfully wicked to sweep him off his heels.


	4. A Darkened Plume To Stay

"Settle, settle," Andrew hums gently, his hands under his companion's chest, gripping slightly as she fusses in his arms. Dabbing cream along the stitches in her skin, the man concentrates on making sure he didn't hurt the wolf while assuring she was getting the proper dosage. "Just a few more drops."

Ginger whips her head back, her legs sprawling across the mattress as she attempts to escape from the hold from the man. Her jaw has a wire in place, keeping her from furthering the fracture that it had ordained. However, this is also setting the wolf back from biting, the one thing she wants to do with all her heart and soul. But much to her dismay, Davie isn't allowing that as he is much stronger, and the canines that poke out of his own mouth could press a hard chaw much more dangerous than her own.

"You're not a calm one, you aren't," He chuckles, letting her loose and snapping the cap back onto the prescription anti-itch cream. The werewolf sets the medicine on his dresser, where the rest of Ginger's pills and creams were currently laid, as well as a detailed written packet on how to take care of her while she was healing. It would be a while before she was completely healed, but in a few weeks, the wolf would be able to walk and eat normally. A few more weeks that Andrew can hide her safely from the cunning eyes of Julian Owen.

The she-wolf plops down on her chest on the bed, huffing in disappointment. It's not like she can safely get herself off of the furniture, nor do anything without the man lifting her up or down. A depressing plastic cone is locked between her head and body as well, making just the right amount of miserable torture ordained to her. The vet had warned that the wolf seemed to be consistent in her actions of scratching and biting, and so coning her would be the best option to make sure she wouldn't lick nor bite her stitches. Not like she has a reason to. They hurt like a bitch.

"You keep me busy, I hope you know that," Davie mutters, coming to sit next to her withered frame and stroke her soft fur. She was bathed at the facility after her injuries were dealt with, revealing a gorgeous coat of soft red fur and sharp white points along her head and feet. Ginger was definitely a pretty wolf; she would've been the highest female omega in her pack simply due to her appearance. Demeanor, however, not so much. She was nowhere near friendly if you stroked her wrong. "A fireball, but you'll be a good pet. Hopefully running out in the woods will burn off some of your frustration, once you can walk. There's beautiful land in the pack boundaries, lots of space to roam and play. I bet you didn't have that in London, huh?"

Bringing his attention away from the wolf is heavy footsteps and a knock on the old door, causing both the man and his companion to jump. It was most likely just Marcus looking for an apology, but in reality, it was much too early for much of the pack to be up, let along the heavy sleeper of a beta.

"Hey, we need you for patrol." The all-handsome and dark Benjamin Lovett stands at his door once he cracks it open, golden eyes shining and alert. He was a loyal member, possibly as loyal as Hamblett had he not made a few mistakes testing Jools' patience in the past. His dark hair looms over his face, the smallest smile creeping up around his lips. Andrew had always liked Lovett for his calmness and sincerity; he knew life wasn't all that great as well, but he surely made the best of it. "It was Mark's turn this morning, but I dunno where he's gone."

"This early? God, you guys are never-ending." He chuckles frustratingly, rubbing his sleep-covered face. "Yeah yeah, give me a second. You plan on being done by breakfast?"

"If you'd like. You can tag off with Win, I can usually do the north and west portion in a half hour. Think you two can cover the rest together?" He yawns, leaning against the doorframe as his pack member starts making advances towards his pet. Ben raises an eyebrow, his lips cracking open in disbelief. "Is this a wolf?"

"Mhm. Keep a secret, will you? She was bleeding on the boundary line out by the road a few nights ago, and I dragged her in just to see if she'd live through the night. Took her to the vet yesterday, she seems to be doing just fine now. I'll keep her if nothing changes. Her name is Ginger."

"Can I pet her?" The brunette asks surprisingly, receiving a small nod of approval while Davie starts stripping to shift. Ben pats the wolf a few times down, Ginger emitting a low, dangerous growl. "Oh, she's not a fan of me. She's pretty, though, do you know what kind of wolf she is?"

"Florida red wolf," Andrew smirks, full of pride. It was amazing he got a hold of the illegal exotic breed in the first place, even more-so by finding her in his own territory. "They're extinct in the wild. She was supposed to be reintroduced but got sold off to her old owner as a pet instead. Luckily the only life she knows is a domestic one, so she won't be trouble. She's a smart thing, almost seems like one of us with how vocal she is when I talk to her."

"That's lovely." He slips his hands in his pockets, a small sniff of content coming from his nose before he toes for the door. "I have to go get Winston, so meet us outside. And Davie, I know what happened between you and Marcus. I hope you know you hurt him."

The trio of creatures set off into the plains and forest of their territory. Greycrest Pack has about 200 acres of land to themselves, considerably less than they had claimed in the origin of their ancestors. Due to civilization to the areas around the city of London, expansion, and decline of the land due to pack rivalries, the whole is low for their numbers, but a perk of the lack of reservation is it's easy to patrol. That of which, of course, Davie and Winston take gladly. The two aren't the most agile of wolves in comparison to their packmates.

The smaller wolf sniffs around the ground, skipping slightly in this tracks, and the opposite follows, marking the boundary line with drops of urine to make sure it was claimed. The mighty sun is just beginning to peek above the horizon, purple and orange, stars and the all-powerful moon shining in the western sky. The creatures snort in vocalization, tired and bored, coming to a close in their morning duty before something send Winnie's tail stiff.

He barks, crouching down onto the dirt, sniffing rapidly at the tree in front of him. Andrew trots over to figure out what his worries are; Winston could be funny, and he sometimes did mess around and pretend he saw something that was nonexistent. He sticks his nose around the trunk, ears perking up in surprise. Very obviously, the smell is one of the rivals; Defiant. They hadn't been messing with their weaker counterpart in some moments, they had better things to do than pick fights for fun. It wasn't a joking matter how they managed to kill Jools' parents in one single moonlight.

It's quick that Ben, coming from the north, notices something is odd. He comes to a halt where Davie and Winston are signaling, tails flicking quickly in the gentle wind and barking ferociously at the sharp smell. He huffs, noticing their disappointment. Almost two acres had the smell traced strongly along the ground and tree lines; it was too much for a simple slip of paw off of the boundary line. Before reassuring the rest of the land was safe, the three make a beeline for the manor; this would have to be reported to the alpha immediately.

Three wolves come busting in the grand doorway from the porch, pausing to see the alphas (and a particular beta) enjoying their breakfast at the old wooden dining table. With fur raised upon their necks and haunches and snarling frustratingly, Julian drops his fork and wipes his mouth, slicking his hair back in a moment before dropping the question.

"What the hell did you find?" He stutters seriously, red eyes scanning the forms of his pack members. Benjamin shows his teeth, scratching a paw against the floor littered with likewise marks. He whimpers afterward, confirming it was urgent. The alpha guesses immediately. "You're kidding. Oh hell, god, that's just great news! Brent's filthy little ass thinks he can mess with me again, after all that we've tolerated from them. Go get changed and have some breakfast, you three, I'll figure out what all needs to be done."

After tossing on an old hoodie and jeans (his usual attire), Andrew makes his way down the stairs and snaps an evil snarl at Marcus, who is casually eating at the table next to Jools, who dines at the head of the table and currently scrapes his eggs around in a circle. "So we're alpha-material now, aren't we?" He snaps in his enemy's ear, making sure his words were clear and sarcastic. "What'd you do, fuck him again? Is that how someone gets a place at this goddamn table?"

"Shut up," The brunette mumbles, the blades of his cheeks turning a deep rose as he buries his face in his neckline. "Don't talk to me."

"Davie, don't speak to him, he's up in his head this morning," Julian remarks casually as he flicks the sausage around in his fingers, observing the grease drip off onto the white plate. Suddenly everything appears unconditionally unappetizing. "Do you know who marked the line?"

"No, it must've been one of their omegas or summat," He shrugs, spooning a bit of egg and bacon onto his own dish to take up to the bedroom. Slyly, he slips a few links of meat into his hoodie pocket, knowing all-well Ginger would be starving by this time. "I know what their alphas smell like, especially Brent. He must've told them to come in a little farther."

"Fucking asshole," The alpha says under his breath, leaning his head on his palm and letting out a wild sigh. "He knows I can barely feed this pack, let alone keep them all safe. How far can a century-long hatred for each other last? Can't we all just behave like modern people?"

"Modern people are precisely the same, except they fight for money and love," The brunette giggles, stopping before heading up the staircase. "Trust me, I used to be human."

***

In a few weeks conditions are beginning to return to normal in the pack functions. The wolves keep a close eye on their borders, setting out both morning and evening patrollers to mark the boundary and people in and out of the manor keeping a close eye on the forest and plains for the slightest mishap. Julian even takes extra precaution than usual, spending much of his downtime laying on the front porch in his natural state, watching the outside world with his blood red eyes.

Ginger is healing quickly, a bit too quickly for Davie's liking. It became more and more difficult by the day for him to keep her a secret, for once her cone was removed and she learned to pad around on a broken leg, the creature could make distance in a small amount of time and would scratch at the door, pacing back and forth from the entrance and the window all night until she collapsed in exhaustion on the man's bed. He felt for her direly, knowing all-too-well how much she needed to run and jump and breathe fresh air. It would just be difficult to see the cripple he raised up from near-death able to escape just as fast.

It's near nightfall when Andrew and Ginger are relaxing on his bed, a book between one hand of the werewolf. He turns the pages silently, words intently hovering in his mind about this and that. He'd read a lot of books since he became the vampire's enemy, mostly old novels he bought at the outside market sold by collectors and rummagers. They were cheap and dusty, usually boring, but once in a while, he'd pick up a story worth reading. It was more of a hobby than an actual longing for learning; what he wanted to learn most was impossible for a werewolf, even as his guitar sat against the wall across from him.

"I think I'm gonna get out of here one day," Andrew says calmly to Ginger, his hand stroking her soft head. She had a new collar after the old one broke into three pieces from her consistent scratching and biting at it, a pretty vintage leather one the man had not coincidently found at the Shepherd's Bush market, the only place he could afford to shop. It had a small brass nameplate on it and nothing else; it's not like he had a well-working cellphone. It was an old flip-phone- the only thing it could still do was make telephone calls. "I'll take you with me. We can live down by the Thames, where it's cheap but pretty nonetheless. I'll walk you every morning and every night. I can make money busking on the street to pay for food and rent. It'll be nice. There are a few werewolves that live in London, I'm sure it's not too bad."

The wolf whimpers, laying her head in her paws, bored as per usual due to her disability. Davie frowns in pity, closing his book after dog-earing the page. He leans down and kisses her forehead, clicking the lamp off and shuffling down into the covers, his tongue licking his lips to moisten them in the dry air.

"A boy can dream, can't he, Ginger?" Davie giggles, shutting his eyelids slowly and yawning. "Well, goodnight. I know I'm just talking to a wolf, but I hope you sleep well. Sweet dreams, my friend."

Sweet dreams do not follow for the former, for she spends her night dreading a feeling that rises in her chest and brings wallowing pain to her bones and breastbone. As soon as the pain is unbearable, she jumps off of the bed and huffs, hacking onto the floor and sticking her muzzle into the floorboards to mask the noise. She can't wake up Davie; she needs to hurry up and finish her duty and slide out of the window as quickly as possible. Quiet and slick; just as she had been living among John and Lydia in their townhouse inside of the city.

Ginger finds her tail is the last of her feral form to disappear before she drags herself completely into the wooden doors of the man's closet, tears running down her cheeks like a pipe bursting in an old house. She curls her face into her chest, attempting to mask that sobbing the best she can, and as the moon starts to fall the opposite way in the sky her breaths become more rapid as she worries about the possibility of being spotted in this... way. Would she be killed? Would Andrew bring that god-awful smelling boy back, the one with white hair and beer on his breath? Would this be the end of her years, the years she has spent keeping her secret a secret from-

"Fuck!" The man groans loudly from outside of the closet, footsteps padding so quickly to the closet that it's the shortest second of life that Ginger has ever had to attempt to hide, throwing her body against the frame of the small room and hiding her nude body against it, still bawling roughly. A gasp escapes the boy's mouth, and he takes a few steps back in the lamplight to raise his palms in front of his chest. Shocked is an understatement for the werewolf. The brunette takes a few deep breaths, lowering himself onto his hands and knees and bowing down like a person in worship prayer.

"Well, this is... a surprise," He giggles, causing Ginger's ears to perk and her crying to worsen. Maybe he wouldn't slay her brutally. "Hey, don't cry, it's alright. I won't hurt you, never would I."

In a moment he reappears with a hooded sweatshirt in his hands and a pair of his smallest (and cleanest) boxers, kneeling down in the frame of the closet and setting them down next to her. She lifts an eyebrow, uncovering her face for a second to look down at the article, his eyes, and then down at the clothing again. As the man looks away she pulls it over her head, slipping into the over-sized hoodie and rotating the sleeves so her pale hands are shown. Then she shuffles into the pants, setting them around her small hips.

"Better?" Andrew queries softly, backing away to allow the smaller, female werewolf to have some space. She nods, scrubbing her face and sniffling. "Well then, I guess I'm relieved about you, being a werewolf and all. That means you were as smart as I thought you were. Can you talk, or not yet?"

"Yes," Ginger mutters, her voice coming out deliberately and very faint, like that of a lullaby. It's quite high and feminine, hoarse, and Davie lets out an expression that can only be comprehended as pure endearment. Now that he's found out about her secret, the girl isn't too dismayed that he's more open with his cordiality to her. "I cannot say many words."

"That's fine, I assumed. Not all of us were born human, nor around others of our kind. Are you comfortable coming out of there, or do you want me to just stay here?"

She nibbles her lip before edging out of the closet, revealing the rest of her frame. Ginger, however, walks on all fours, completely presumed for her domesticated lifestyle. But now that she's out, Andrew's gold eyes can see her human frame as she sits on the floor in front of him, a few steps away. The young woman is tiny and slim, with small breasts poking out of the fabric. Her feet are small, too, as she tucks them under her body and drags herself into a small ball. Her hair is a sight to behold, the number-one thing the man can't stop looking at. It's longer than her shoulders, a deep red- and it's curly! Yellow eyes avoid uncomfortable stares from the opposing, freckles underneath them, and she reddens being observed before he giggles once again.

"I'm sorry, you're cute!" He admits, turning a little red in the neck and rubbing the skin behind his own brown curls. "You're a tiny thing, that's a shocker. I have never seen a werewolf this small, and the omega den is full of short ones. It'll be fun to tell them that Ginger's beat them to it. Oh, is that your name? Or is it a pet name?"

Ginger shakes her head, poking her skull into her chest. "My name is Ginger. I do not know if I had a name before."

"Well, I like it, it suits you." The towering man grins, showing his yellowing teeth. "Man, who would've guessed? I've been taking care of a werewolf for weeks, and I had no clue! You're tricky. What made you decide to change tonight? Just felt like it?"

"It happens." The girl mumbles, throwing her hair out of her eyes. "I can not pick when. I need to be... mmm... careful?"

He nods, lowering his eyebrows. It was possible, but not likely, for their age of werewolves to struggle with their transformation. Like all of the werewolves he had met, he could change by choice, whenever he found comfortable, whether that be during a full moon or not. Pups obviously hadn't been born with this ability, but their brains soon developed to the point where they could do so by mental imagination. It was a shame she was troubled with the shallow-minded head of domestication.

"I think you could learn to control it. Do you know how many days you stay human, or vice-versa? I could go weeks, but that's just me." The brunette smiles, sticking his foot out to poke her own. She frowns, looking down at it. "Just wanted to see if you minded being touched."

"No. Just do not hurt me." The werewolf grins slightly, the edges of her pink lips raising. "I am mostly wolf. I will only be like this for a day or two."

"Oh, I have to get to know you then!" Davie exclaims quickly, rising from the wood floor. "Are you tired, or do you want to stay up and talk?"

Ginger shrugs her shoulders, ignoring the unfamiliar feeling of doing so. "I do not mind."

"O.K., then I think I would love to get to know you better. Come with me, I'll make some tea and we can sit on the porch outside. It's a lovely night." He suggests, throwing a hand into his pocket before the girl points at her legs, pouting a lip. "Right, you can't walk with two legs, can you? Umm... why don't you go piggy-back?"

After questioning what the hell "piggy-back" meant in basic English, the eight-foot man hoists the girl up onto his back and carries her down the stairs, setting her to sit on the countertops before gathering two mugs and some supplies- cream, honey, and sugar. They were running low on everything but tea.

"What is 'tea'?" Ginger wonders obliviously, watching in horror as a small blue flame is created under the metal kettle on the stove. She waves her hand by it, pulling back in shock. "That is... hot."

"Shh, everybody's asleep, it's bedtime. Yeah, it is. Don't touch it," He snickers, selecting two tea bags. "You can say more than you thought, you know. You'll know what tea is in a second, I'm sure you'll like it."

"Is that what humans have? After the moon is gone?" The girl attempts at whispering, watching as Andrew sets a warm mug in her hands. She sniffs it swiftly. "Smells good."

"Take a sip, hm?" Andrew gets a bit too close, his nose on her forehead as the werewolf downs some of the liquid into her mouth. She hums, satisfied. "Good, right?"

"Yes." The redhead smiles, moving her head up to come in contact with the man, his palms against the countertop. Their noses brush, and as quickly as she's uncomfortable his warmth brings her peace, having Davie press a kiss to the tip of it. It's not a usual act, it just feels... different, with lips brushing skin instead of fur. Ginger blushes in the moonlight. "I do not know your name."

"Ahh, that's right." Taking the cup from her hands, the boy turns around so she climbs on his back, and away he takes the tea in his hands out to the old wood porch outside. "I'm Davie. Andrew Davie, call me Davie, please." He hands the tea back, milky and sweet. Do you have a surname, darling?"

"I do not know what that is. I'm called Ginger, that is all I know." Staring out at the wilderness, the girl takes a large breath of air in and surveys the smell. It's not anywhere she would want to get lost. "You do not live around houses or buildings? There are no people?"

"Nope, you're a lucky werewolf. Most of us get strewn out here for their title. This is called the manor; it's where all of my pack lives, and the rest is our territory, all 200 acres of it. Were you in a pack before you came to live here?"

"Umm..." The redhead thinks, searching her mind. She remembers being taken from her mother as a small pup, carried away by a man in a coat and put into a cage with her brothers and sisters. All she knows is her mother, however, and the siblings that nursed around her. Was she ever a part of a larger group? "I do not know. I had a mother and others, they were littermates. I came here when I was a pup and I do not remember what the place before that looked like."

"Well, I'm just curious, I don't know much about the werewolves in North America. My pack and our rivals, Defiant, are the only known ones in this country. Nobody really bothers us because they're scared of us, but we do get a hunter out here every once in a while that shoots the deer. We chase them out because we need the deer to eat."

"You can hunt?" She says, a bit taken aback. "Don't you just have the food in the house?"

"That too, but not a lot of us have jobs and so it's not ideal that human food supplies our whole pack. Yes, we are all skilled hunters, and we bring back a lot of deer and elk when we go out. Maybe I could take you along next time if Jools is fine with you staying."

"Jools? That is the man with the white hair." Ginger's pupils dilate, and she scoots to be a bit closer to the boy next to her. He sets his hand on the small of her back, rubbing slightly.

"No need to be afraid. He's not very kind, no, but he's not a killer. He won't hurt another of his kind unless they're rival unless he's... claiming someone. Human, I mean. That's how I got this scar on my neck." Taking her palm, Davie guides her fingers around the small indent in his skin, showing her the evidence. "I used to be a real boy, Ginger."

"I want to be a real girl," She sighs, leaning against his arm and staring out into the dark wilderness bathed by white moonlight and a sky full of shining stars. "Was it nice?"

"It was nice," The man nods, hugging her tightly, a gutting sensation in his chest of all things sadness and regret. "Very nice. Very, very nice."

***

Near mid-morning Davie waddles downstairs after flickering the lights in his bedroom off. Ginger slept peacefully in his bed, the blankets fisting around her hands, curled up small and innocent underneath those covers. The man himself had slept in Marcus' old bed, knowing the girl would want her space after an interesting night between the two of them.

He ends the last step in a yawn, throwing his arms up in the air and slinking into the kitchen, a small greeting to the alphas as per usual as they had their meal and coffee. Expecting to find a spread of food laid out to dine at his leisure as long as he was being fair proportionally, the man finds himself furrowing an eyebrow at an empty counter except for black coffee and cream.

Andrew turns and places his hands on the trim of the old stone surface. "Did everyone eat already?"

Ted, across from Georgie at the table, grasps an apple from the bowl and tosses it to the beta, who catches it swiftly in his hand. "This is all we've got left, mate."

"Really?" The werewolf frowns, reaching for a knife to swiftly core the fruit and dispose of the inner workings. He cuts it into four slices, taking a bite before spatting. "Ugh, these taste terrible. I don't mean to be rude, but what's with the lack of good food today?"

The alpha Jools sighs at the head of the dining table, swiftly scratching penmanship onto a piece of paper. "I sent out two groups to hunt last night and neither of them came back with anything. The hunters must've wiped out the whole Epping! We're too broke to buy any real food, so you're going to have to deal with some sour fruit for the next few days or so."

As he prepares his coffee, Davie finds himself gutted over the conversation. He hated seeing his pack struggle, as much as he abhorred living in such conditions. There had been bad winters, yes, and wounded battles, but nothing short of the past few months Greycrest has ordained.

The brunette takes his coffee and waddles over to Julian, overlooking his writing and taking a hearty sip. It didn't do much to settle his hunger, but the warmth it brought made his body content. "What're you writing?"

"Do you have any decency?" Marcus snaps immediately, his head darting up to give his enemy a snarky frown, dark eyebrows like diagonal lines. "He's the alpha, you can't ask things like that, asshat."

"Marcus, sweetheart, calm down, it's quite alright," Jools mutters, his voice somber. The boy sinks into his chair, blowing a piece of hair out of his face. "I'm composing a letter to Brent, as awfully weak of me as that may sound. I want him to understand that we are in no condition to fight with Defiant again, and marking past our lines, stealing our prey isn't making anybody's life easier. I won't ask for a truce with him, no, I just feel it would do them some good to see what exactly they're doing to us."

"That sounds like giving up," Andrew sighs softly, his hand on the end of the chair. "Is there anything else we can do? Anything at all?"

The blond sets his pen down, laying his cheek on his hand and looking up at Davie with his blood-red eyes of a high title. "I want to take the barn by the river back. That thing has been ours for a very long time, and I think we deserve to have it after all of this trouble. It would be a nice place to keep a meat shed and some fowl, maybe. Problem is Defiant is so on our tail right now, it's hard to ask for that back."

"Do you honestly think they'd just give the thing to us?" Georgie protests from across the table, her eyes wide and frustrated. "Jools, they have twice as many members as us and clearly we are in no shape to fight! What, are you trying to make a little barter with them?"

"I thought we could give the 20 acres by the road to them." He says slowly, running his finger across the table. Georgie and Ted as well gasp, red as hot tomato soup.

"What are you, drunk?" Ted shouts, his fist grasping the air. "That's a tenth of our territory! We can't get to the city without that road! We're not Mary Poppins' purse, Julian, we don't have unlimited land to just give away like it's a Christmas gift! This pack is starving and all you care about is getting your feet rubbed by that completely unworthy faggot of a beta sitting next to you!"

"Don't you dare call him a faggot!" The lead alpha growls, his teeth snarling out of his mouth. The hair on his neck raises, and he throws his coffee mug to the floor with a shatter to take Marcus' hand and pull him upstairs with no context. A door is heard slamming from two stories up, the foundation quivering in a squeak.

As the table quiets, Ted returns to his coffee and Georgie goes back to her book, pleased with the silence. Andrew chuckles, grabbing another apple for Ginger before starting to the stairs. The man bites his lip before spilling some information he knows could get him into a heap of trouble within the manor.

"Everybody knows they're fucking, right?" He asks slowly, and the two alphas shrug off the question with a grunt.

"It's hard to ignore it when you live next door to 'em, mate," The golden-haired man giggles, his curls bouncing above his ears. "A few moans, mostly chanting, shouting, the floorboards creaking... Faggots. Don't they know that stuff is for city wolves? It would be a dying shame that Brent find out what exactly is going on behind closed doors in this manor."


	5. Hope Here Needs A Humble Hand

The alpha crashes through his door, hands over his eyes as tears pour down his cheeks and onto the hardwood beneath him. He faints on his bed, sobbing into the sheets. The sun migrates across the quilt, signifying a new day, one that deems pessimistic for the leader of Greycrest. Not unless, however, his favorite beta can be of some aid and kindness.

"J, darling, it's okay, don't cry," The brunette soothes, closing the entrance with a squeak and bolting it with the deadbolt above the knob. Marcus comes to squat next to the withering Jools, his hand lowering onto his stern and rubbing slightly over his shaking build. "I'm used to being called a faggot, it's alright."

"That's not what I'm upset about," He mourns, curling his body up into a vague ball. "I'm-I'm a bad alpha. I'm a faulty alpha, Marcus!"

"No, you're not, you're incredible," The bigger man disregards, his fingers running through dense platinum locks. He tucks them behind the older's pointy ears, tracing the frame of them slowly to unwind his friend. "You're a great alpha, Jools."

Julian sways his head, whimpering into his hands. "Everybody is starving because of me. We haven't had any new pups born in the past two springs, either-" He stops to let out a yawn midsentence, choking up. "I-I'm fucking sick of being in administration if I can't do anything right. We would be 400 acres into Defiant if my dad were still alive!"

The beta tsks, bringing the golden-haired boy up to lay his head in his thighs. He cleans the tears from underneath his red eyes, leaning down to caress his lips before Jools sniffles and ruins the moment. Marcus bears a broken smile, stifling up the courage to kiss him again.

"T-Thanks." Jools takes a deep breath, calming down after a few kisses and small-nothings. "You always know how to calm me down. After all, you're gonna be my mate, I wouldn't expect any less..."

"I'm trying very hard to earn that," The opposite mumbles, stroking the man's cheek. Oh does Julian love affection; he loves being touched and kissed, loved on, treated like he was royalty and the most beautiful thing in the world. He swallows up every second of Marcus' caress. "I wish you would just tell me what exactly you wanted me to do... if you want me to kill someone, just tell me Jools, and I will! I swear I will!"

"Oh, darling," Jools remarks, peering up at his friend and permitting his hands to wrap around the beta's neck, choking so slightly it causes the brunette to swallow, his Adam's Apple gliding inside his throat. "I don't want you to kill anyone. I just want you to show that you're not going to leave me and that I'm not wasting my time with you."

Dumbfoundedly, Mark squints his golden eyes and lets his lips part, leaning down to pecker them around the alpha's chin. "I won't leave you. I'm yours; I don't even care if I'm property as long as I can see you every day. You're so special..."

Letting out a long sigh, Andrew considers his words and slowly taps on the door to Jools' private suite, pressing his forehead to the wood and shuffling his feet. Inside he hears the voices of both the man and his favorite beta, a small groan escaping his lips knowing Marcus was here to get rid of him. Gone were the days where his friend would love his company; before he deemed that his life was owed to their leader, the boy hated being a monster just as much as his best mate did. Now, it seemed he cherished every single second of it and more.

"What do you want?" Julian roars from inside, apparently ticked. He blows his almost-white hair out of his eyes, concentrating as it settles behind his display. "If you're coming to beg for food, we don't have any!"

"Uh, it's Davie, sir," The musician conjures up, chewing on his bottom lip of weak pink flesh. It was depressing that the situation had come to the point where Davie was admitting one of his biggest secrets since finding her in the woods just a few weeks ago, but it demanded to be done so that Ginger may be able to live peacefully among the pack members for the time being. Everything he did from now on was for her- and solely her. "I have to ask you a question and I would prefer not to be judged by your friend in there."

"Asshat," The other beta grumbles under his breath, rising from the mattress and coming over to unlock the door. He furrows an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. Andrew waves silently, his lips curling up in a smile that's as fake as plastic fruit in a bowl. "What the hell are you questioning him?"

"Could I speak to him himself, thank you?" Andrew snaps, pushing past his enemy and stomping into the room where Jools is just starting to uncurl from his cocoon on the bed. Marcus shoots a stare at the alpha, pleading with his eyes that may be genuine this time; he really, really hates Andrew Davie. Julian waves his hand, his lips showing that the brunette could make his exit. He would speak with the beta if that's what was right. "Thank you."

"You're not talking about the two of us to the rest of the pack, right?" The alpha says slowly as the werewolf settles in the old velvet chair on the opposite wall, painted a dirty white. The bearded man chuckles, leaning his head on his shoulder and staring at the floorboards. "You are! You dirty asshole! I thought I could trust you, Davie."

He shrugs, slipping hands behind his neck. "I never leaked it, I'm better than that. It just so happens you two aren't too quiet during your little sessions. Ted's highly aware."

Growling, the blond sinks his face into his hands and hides it, so scared of the truth. He knows what he's doing with Marcus is wrong, but simply one thing overrides any thought of caring about what was wrong or right. That one thing is a fact he could never admit, could never mutter into any sort of dialect, foreign nor native. He doesn't love; he has never loved because the world didn't need any more love in it than it already had. "I'm sorry. He's just so sweet, and so caring... what am I saying? What can I help you with, Davie?"

"Oh, um..." The man takes a deep breath, somehow aware that since the opposing wasn't drunk nor high this early in the morning, that he would be a bit softer with the truth than usual. "I had- have- a wolf, you know that. I've been keeping her in my room for the past three weeks."

"I know, I smelled her," He admits, causing Davie's head to raise and his eyes to sparkle. Did he do that bad of a job of keeping her hidden? Fuck! Julian chuckles somewhat, sitting up with his legs intersected and stifling up a weak grin. "It's okay, I'm not mad. Thank you for coming and telling me, though, I appreciate hearing the truth once in a blood moon here."

"No, I... thanks. That was really nice." The beta says slowly, feeling a bit sorry for always trash-talking his leader. As mentioned prior, Jools was a decent human; he just had dirty, dirty habits. "That's beside the point, though. So, actually, my supposed "wolf" surprised me last night, and she showed me her human form. I was wrong about her; she's pure werewolf. Extremely gorgeous, too. I thought I should tell you, considering, you know... there's another one of us in this manor currently."

"Oh, that's remarkable! I knew something smelled off about her, but I couldn't put my finger on it." He laughs, standing up on his feet and going over to his desk, taking a small envelope off of the surface. "Hopefully you don't mind sharing food with her for a bit, we can't really feed another werewolf, you know."

Davie nods his curly head, grinning in satisfaction. "She won't be human for long. Probably about another day or so, she can't control her form yet. Ginger happens to like dog chow, the nasty stuff, so she'll be alright."

Jools gives the man on the bench the envelope, transferring it over with his long fingernails. "Can you do me a favor? I need you to take this to Brent. I know you're not going to be thrilled on it, but I don't have anyone else to trust right now to deliver it. God knows I can't, and I worry for Marcus in that territory. Take it as soon as you can, please."

"O.K..." The man peers down at the article, biting his lip. He had never been into Defiant territory, other than the few times the wolves were allowed to pass in order to access a suitable spot to howl during a full moon. It smelled sharp and dangerous, encircled by furrowing pine trees and underbrush of evergreen needles and nettles. "Won't I get ambushed before I make it to the pack house? They have decent security..."

The blond shakes his head, reassuring the man below him. "You won't get hurt. Brent is actually a pretty reasonable guy, despite his bad persona. I'm sure he'll talk to you. Bring some clothes to change into, and I might consider taking an omega if it bothers you to go on your own."

"Nah, I'll take Ginger. I don't trust her being here by herself. I'm kind of her protector, you know?" He shrugs, heading towards the door. Jools takes a few steps towards him, crossing his arms with a weak smile. Obviously, something is playing on his mind.

"That's good. Can I ask you a question? A slightly weird one?"

"Of course," The beta assures, tugging on his lip. The blond blushes, dragging one foot back and forth. His nervous tendency makes the taller man take what he said about the alpha being a decent person to heart. He really was just a sheep in a wolf's clothing.

"If I told Marcus I loved him, do you think he would say it back?" Jools mumbles, staring at the door. Davie chuckles loudly, his heart warming.

"Of course he would. Marcus loves you, Jools, he would do anything for you and more. I think you should tell him, it would mean the world to him. Here's your advice: the first thing he ever said to me when he found out I was a werewolf too was that you saved his life. I couldn't think of anything that would make that boy happier than your love."

The blond leans in for a tight hug, letting his head sink into the boy's chest, submission to his words. "Thank you. I will tell him, I do truly love him. Be careful, don't let Brent fool you into buying drugs. He has a lot, and he will bring his secret weapon in if possible."

"What's his secret weapon?" Davie ponders, poking his head through the door before exiting.

"Let's just say someone's old alpha had sex with a domestic dog, and now they have a doggy werewolf walking around. He's actually really cute, but Brent snorts cocaine off of him. If you say you don't want to buy, he'll bring that little bitch in to convince you otherwise. Oh, and Brent looks a bit... different, by the way."

***

The evening is warm and breezy as the two werewolves set out on their journey, towards the east of the Epping forest and away from the river and the manor they call their home. Ginger stays put riding on Andrew's wolf back, her body hunched over to latch onto his scruff like a pair of handles. Dressed adorned in a few garments borrowed from Liza including a pair of dark-wash jeans (too big on her, but comfortable), a maroon sweater, and a pair of worn black leather boots, her red hair glows in the reflection of the sunset, freckled cheeks pink and cold. On her back is a small satchel, leather and tarnished, holding a change of clothes for the man, a few apples, and the letter to Brent from their leader.

Davie jogs at a steady pace, his paws hiking up dirt and leaves as they hit the ground on contact. He huffs only slightly, in shape, loving the cool breeze against his face and the smell of nature surrounding him as they make their way towards Defiant's manor. It's a grand old building, similar to that of their own pack but less shabby. An English mansion, built of stone and red brick, covered in ivy and vines with a lack of shattered windows and holes in the foundation that Greycrest's home had itself. It was sturdy and lively, with lights on in almost every pane of glass, and surrounded by small greenery and a grand porch with stairs of almost ten paws high.

The beta stops somewhere on the outskirts of the building and Ginger dismounts him, sitting down on the ground as she had no ability to stand. He smiles slightly and licks her face, panting, exiting behind a tree with the small backpack in his mouth. In a few moments, he returns, eight feet tall on two feet, slicking his hair back with his hand.

"You know what, Ginger?" He asks, a smile playing on his lips. With his hands, Andrew lifts the she-wolf off of the ground and leans her against his chest, keeping her steady. "I think you can walk, you've just never tried. Take a few steps, I've got you."

"I can't," She disregards, but yet takes one step with her right foot, leaning back into the werewolf's grasp. The way she's so hateless being abreast him brings a certain glow to the opposite's soul. He can perceive both of them have something on their minds about each other, but it's too early to be having that discussion. "I can't do it on my own."

"Sure you can." Retaining his hands on her hipbones, he escorts her body towards the east. "One foot in front of the other. You'll like walking, I promise. It's much better than being on the ground all the time."

"Don't drop me," The redhead mumbles awkwardly, taking a few small steps. The brunette trusts not to, almost letting her go before she slips down into his hold, a small canine whimper escaping her pale lips. Flushing red, Davie kisses her forehead and falls into a gentle fit of giggles.

"Didn't drop you." He chuckles for the last time, squeezing her tight in a backward hug, his strong muscles making her slightly breathless. "A little practice and you'll be running around with me. Come on, let's go get this over with. I'd like to get back before moonrise so we can get some rest."

The werewolves pad up the staircase to the manor, and once reaching the huge French doors of decorated wood, Davie taps on the glass and awaits its opening. A small flurry of voices sounds from inside the building before a towering male of almost nine feet takes the request, leaning against the frame of the entrance. He's older than both of them by far but ageless to the fact that a full-blooded werewolf is near immortal. Betas and mixes, like the creature Jools had spoken that belonged to Defiant, wouldn't live near as long, for their blood ran with witch-like genetics. A complete werewolf was beginning to be a luxury in the London area; most of them had been killed in the war or shot by hunters in the early 1950s.

"Bonjour, Greycrest mutts," He howls in a deep tone, letting his nose sniff out their sharp scent. "You better have a good reason for being here before I snap your throats in half."

Ginger settles this gigantic creature standing in her presence very well could crack any of her bones into itty-bitty pieces, and she pales before leaning against her friend for protection. The brunette lets an awkward laugh escape his lips before pulling the envelope from his backpack and showing it to the rival.

"We're no mutts, mate. I come bearing a letter for Brent from Jools, our alpha. He said it was urgent, and that I should come as soon as I could." He grins slightly, showing sharp teeth just to possibly set off the man in front of him. The werewolf snorts, shrugging his shoulders and looking over his shoulder inside the house.

"I'll have the dog take you to Brent. Elias!" He calls, loud enough for Davie and Ginger's ears to perk and ring, grunting at the decibel coming from his jaw. The sun is now purple against the horizon, signifying the arrival of the moon in just a few moments. They would have to make it prompt before Defiant selected to have them served for their pack's supper.

A small boy arrives swiftly in a few moments, taking a small bow to his packmate and causing a small jingle from a piece of jewelry around his neck. As soon as his mop of short brown-blond curls uncovers his face, it's evident why they call him "the dog". A leather collar was strapped around his neck, a small tag on it's hook in the logo of his pack. Every wolf in a pack had a patch of fur on their forehead in the shape of their family's stamp; Defiant's was a backward moon, exactly what the small creature had in silver. As Andrew managed to get closer to the boy later in his visit, he notices the intricate lettering on the moon; Elias.

"Hi!" He greets in a high-voice, folding his hands behind his back. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Take them to Brent, please." And so the brunette nods his head, flashing a toothy smile and shining green eyes.

"Sure! Right this way." The interior of the manor is nowhere near the shabby outside of the building; it's elegant, and Ginger, on the man's back, can't keep her eyes off of anything. It's cozy warm, orange and yellow lighting making it seem even cozier among the old velvet furniture and dark oak built-ins. It's expansive as well, the kitchen on one side of the grand staircase they head up. It smells of delicious meats, raising her nose immediately. Oh, how she wishes this was home. "The master should be able to see you, I don't believe he is busy."

"No rush..." Andrew mutters, forgetting about their actual concern for a timeframe as he becomes invested in seeing every edge of this manor he can. It's difficult to believe a pack of filthy dogs live in this house; it looks like the study of a wealthy English professor or a widowed woman. Not to mention the smell gets more inviting as they make their way to the fourth floor; instead of food, it's rosy and floral. Goodness, does it have to be this nice?

Music fills the inside of the room as Elias drops his visitors off in front of the door to the room of the alpha, soft piano playing, and gentle humming. The collared boy leans against the wall, crossing his arms and offering yet again another overly-enthusiastic smile of white teeth.

"He seems to be finishing up a piece. He should be finished in a moment, then I will tell him you're here." Elias says confidently, running a hand through the messy locks on his head. He wears a white hoodie that zips near the collar, the cuffs and collar on the garment including a black stripe. His pants are black jeans, and shoes of expensive leather dress boots, nothing near as scuffed as terribly as any shoe in Greycrest's history. When the piano dwells out he taps on the door, leaning in to speak into it. "Mr. Cardway, it's Elias. You have guests waiting, should I send them in or is it a bad time?"

"You may enter," The voice inside chimes, and in a second the three werewolves enter the alpha suite. The rosy scent is coming from a collection of candles around the room, flames making the pink walls shadowy and dim. A man sits at the chair of a grand piano, black, near his bed, and as soon as he rises from the stool to move to his desk Davie lets out a gasp he didn't mean to be holding.

Defiant's alpha, Brent, was something of fairytale stories. It was hard to look him anywhere, for he looked so uncomfortably rare. It was witchcraft that the lycanthrope, regardless of status or genetics, could perform such an act of keeping his two forms stably intertwined; his slick tail curved around his bipedal legs, canine ears pointy and above his eyebrows, and his face was almost completely muzzled, still able to talk as well as bark as he chose fit. This witchcraft, this form, was regarded as dangerous and under the wrong circumstances, and the beast could become trapped in his halfway transformation, never able to have a choice between his feral and human states again. The leader sits at his expansive desk comfortable, his tail swaying, and puts his hands on the wood before looking at the group with his red eyes. The change in his body doesn't seem to effect him the slightest.

"Surprise surprise, the dog dragged in two Greycrest sluts." He giggles, somehow speaking through that red wolf head. Andrew can't shut his mouth, so wide-open, and Ginger pants heavily, her palms behind her back, gripping so tightly her knuckles are stark white. "Didn't your mothers teach you not to stare? Wait, you're werewolves. Sit, sit. Want anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water...?"

"Uhh... coffee. Would be nice." The brunette manages to mumble, his lips still trembling in shock. It wasn't that he was frightened of the leader, no, it was just the evidence that his appearance was one you learn about in old folktales as a pup.

"Wonderful. Elias, can you get two coffees for our guests? A beer for me, please." The boy skitters from his lookout at the door to the corridor behind the desk, securing it quickly behind him and leaving the alpha with a pleased smirk on his face. He studies the girl and boy intently, keeping that smile upon his muzzle. Julian wasn't mistaken about him, though; he wasn't mean the slightest. Just laborious to look in the eyes. "So, Jools couldn't show himself, huh? He could've sent Ted or Georgie, but no, he sends me two friends I've never met; a beta and an omega, at that. Introduce yourselves, he should have the drinks in a moment."

The beta converses first. "I'm Davie, I'm the beta nobody likes. This is Ginger; she's not really an omega. I watch over her personally. I have a letter from Jools to give to you." The man slides the envelope over the surface of the desk, and Brent frowns to stare at it for a moment before tucking it over in a pile of other documents. "That's it? You're not going to read it?"

Elias comes rushing in with a few cups in his hands, dropping off an icy bottle of beer into the hands of his master before depositing two mugs of hot black coffee to the Greycrest wolves. He leans against the wall once again, seemingly playing almost the same thing Marcus was to Jools. He was the alpha's servant, happy to do his job.

Defiant's leader chuckles, exerting a long sip of his beer and thrusting his feet onto the desk, furry ears twitching. "Relax, I'll read it. I'd just like to get to know you guys, it's not every day I have members of your pack in and out of my manor. The only time I ever see any rival is when we're ripping each other apart."

"Sorry," Andrew says sincerely, his lips lowering to the drink and tasting the warm beverage on his tongue. It tastes wonderful, a thousand times better than whatever they had in the kitchen back in their home. "Your servant is very nice, sir. He was very welcoming to us."

"Thank you, I sure hope so." Brent grins, tugging on the boy's sleeve to welcome him over. He whispers something in his ear, petting his hair back afterward. Elias escapes back into the corridor as told, taking every request his master would ever give him. "Ginger, was that the name? You have beautiful hair, this is the second time I think I've ever seen another redheaded werewolf. The last time was in the city, I believe I ran into one on the streets at night a few years back. Cute as a button, but I didn't catch her name."

The girl grimaces, setting her drink down after a sip to furrow her gold eyes. Someplace in her consciousness, she recognizes hearing his voice, and after coming to the conclusion that his expression was something she had seen before Ginger can settle that she was indeed the werewolf Brent ran into. "That was me, sir. I'm from the city."

"Ah-ha!" He grins, showing teeth so sharp the devil would've used them to cut obsidian. Davie turns to her and shows a worried look, but she shakes her skull and assures all is well. Her past wasn't exactly scarring; she quite liked being a domestic pet. "Very nice to meet you again, love. You're American, this must be 'An American Werewolf In London'! That fur couldn't be red, could it?"

"Extremely red," Andrew grins slightly, nursing his drink. He's overly content in the alpha's office, bringing his feet up onto the velvet chair and exhaling a long sigh of pleasure. "She's a Florida red wolf. Tiny, but her coat is magnificent. She was domesticated as a pup."

"A mutt, then," The leader seems familiar with the idea, nodding his head. "We have nothing against mutts in this house, my Elias is the strangest combination of werewolf you'll ever meet. Mother was a house dog, a German shepherd. Rarely do lycanthropes get the gene of being like us; when he was born, his father, our old alpha, took him out of the rest of the litter. He was sparkling, literally! I couldn't believe it when he first turned. The thing was terrified, sure, but he survived it! His dad told me to take care of him when he passed, he's a special one. He and I, a couple of misfits, we are. Isn't that right, Eli?"

As if called, a regular-sized dog, a shepherd, of course, makes his entrance into the office; Elias. Brent beams and scoots his chair back, the canine jumping up to lay in his lap. Petting him slightly, the alpha tosses a smirk over to the Greycrest members. "Alright, we can't talk all night, can we? I'll read the letter and you can head back to your own little manor. Will you need escorts?"

Andrew shakes his head, taking the girl's hand in his and squeezing. Brent sips on his drink and slices the envelope open, uncoiling the piece of paper and taking a few moments to read it. After finishing he lets out a snarky chuckle, furrowing his eyebrows and growling slightly.

"We've taken none of your land, and none of your prey," He disregards, causing the fur on Davie's neck to rise. He knew Brent was a bit too kind for his liking, as charming as he was. "I can't believe Jools would lie about this. What we have is ours, and what you have is yours. Defiant has no business in messing with Greycrest; those hunters affect us just as bad as they do you. I have no message back for him, he can figure it out himself."

"I'm sorry," The beta says sincerely, leaning up in the velvet chaise and folding his hands together. He looks the alpha dead in his blood eyes, gold shining in their reflection now. "I had no clue. You're very wonderful and I don't understand why Jools would lie to you. My sincere apologies about wasting your time."

The werewolf scoffs, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back in his chair, Elias asleep on his legs. "You didn't waste my time, I had fun meeting you and your little mutt mate. Why don't you stay for dinner? Both of you could use some meat on your bones, your alpha starves you. C'mon, let's go get a bite."

The brunette gleams and takes his friend's hand, helping her up and lifting her onto his back. He follows Brent and Elias down the staircase and is met with a table full of steaming meats, potatoes, and vegetables, smelling fresh and delicious. The long dining table is lit with candles and set with plates of old chinaware; the best part is his servant has a seat next to the highest alpha at the head of the furniture, set with a small brown dog biscuit.

"Well, please make yourselves at home," Brent smiles, sitting down at his chair and grabbing the steak knife. He slides the roast to himself and cuts a few pieces, then makes sure a slice is portioned into small cubes for Elias' feral form to eat. The rest of the alpha's dined, seemingly ignoring the fact that their leader has guests. They must be used to it by now. "You want beef?"

"Please," Davie moans in pleasure, his mouth watering. As the cutting board is slid to his placemat he slices off three for himself and two for Ginger, passing it over to the next alpha. By the time their plates are full, the two werewolves simply can't sit still with so much delicious food in front of them.

As he dines, the man lets his eyes settle comfortably on Brent's form for once. Though he had had eye contact with the beast in a prior moment, the boy didn't exactly inspect him the best he could. The leader is impeccably handsome in the dim candlelight, his red fur orange and soft, too clean for a wolf to ever be. His outfit is human, suiting to his bipedal form, dressed in a short-sleeve white shirt of expensive cotton and a black vest over the ensemble, with black leather gloves atop his front paws to hide sharp claws underneath. He has a pink bandana tied around his neck, baby pink, like a bowtie for a groom's man. It almost makes him jealous how this man in front of him, such a ruined man for his own curse, is the strongest and most charming man he's ever met. Is this a meeting he should've had a long time ago? Is this a message from an outside source, to be dining with that of a destroyed werewolf?

Ginger breaks Andrew out of his thoughts, and he stares down at her for a moment to see her gold eyes shining happily. He grins, pressing a kiss to her head. "This is my girl," The wolf thinks, smelling her sharp scent of domestication that still resided on her skin as many times as he touched her with his own wild smell. "I've been blessed."

In a few moments, a small hand rests on his thigh suddenly, the warmth of the freckled girl's palm bringing a sharp wave of pleasure through Davie's spine. He reaches down to squeeze it sweetly, muttering a small "hello". "Do you like being here as much as I do, honey?"

"Yes," She nods quickly, a piece of roast beef hanging out of her teeth. He leans in to take the opposite end, brushing noses with her before snatching the meat from her mouth, chewing with general pleasure. She pouts, reaching for his own slice on his plate before he stops her hand and growls. Ginger sinks down, afraid, but he covers his joke by cutting the piece in half and offering her a fresh piece. "I needed that more than you do! I'm starving!"

"You act like I'm not," He laughs under his breath. Brent shoots them a look, rolling his eyes humorously.

"You two are gross. We remember young love, don't we, Elias?" The dog raises his muzzle from his plate of food, whimpering slightly in agreeance. "You're very welcome for the food. I knew you looked too thin, especially the girl. But I would hope this is the last time I have members of Greycrest at my dinner table; we are rivals, not friends. Understand me, boy?"

"Yessir," He nods slowly, sipping on a bottle of beer that was passed to him after the plates were filled. "I thank you for being so welcoming. Sometimes things like this remind me that my curse isn't the worst thing that could've happened to me. Some werewolves, I've learned, are quite lovely. You and your little dog are at the top of that list, sir."

Brent throws him a smile, mouth too full of food to utter any other words. He winks his red eyes, and Davie remembers those eyes. Even as he's leaving that evening, they can't seem to be forgotten, and by the time he and Ginger are kissing on each other against his headboard he settles his life can go on. He'll get out of here, and as soon as the world will allow him to.


	6. Not A Fox Found In Your Place

As the red sun rises, Jools puts on his jogging shoes, squatting down on the weathered old porch to tie the strings of the aging pair. He rubs his face and shoots a squint up at the sky, watching it cross from a light gray to a hazy purple before he sets off on his run. The alpha is a fast runner, as would be expected, however much faster in his feral form. There has always been something that bothered him about being a wolf, however, and not just because his stark white coat was of interest from hunters and naturalists alike. He simply didn't like the way his vision greened and the land became dense and large; Julian liked to see the morning sky, like he was now, and test his human endurance against the smooth plains of the Epping.

He stops to rest his feet along the river, following the flow of the gentle waters down the rocky outcropping surrounding it. The birds above him sing their song and the river makes it's own tune as it works it's way up and down the rocks, a quiet trickling sound breaking through the silence of the woods. Some yards away Jools can spot a tuft of brown curls sitting on a tall rock in the center of the water, his hands on his knees and his head in his hands. The alpha jogs swiftly to him, pulling himself close to the rock and smiling a huge grin.

"Thought I might find you here," He greets, brushing his sweaty hair from his forehead. The brunette gasps, letting out a small hum of "hello" before patting the seat next to him. Jools brings himself up onto the rock, sitting down comfortably next to his beta. "Is there a reason you're hiding out this early in the morning?"

"Manor felt stuffy. Thought getting some air might clear my head." Marcus shrugs, peering down at the water. "Did you come to find me?"

The alpha shakes his head; there had been a genuine reason he was out this early, and not all of that reason came from simply wanting some exercise. "Actually no, I don't commonly come running after people. You're entitled to have your reservation, and I encourage it. To be completely honest, I'm looking for Winston. Nobody has seen him since yesterday morning; he's gone."

"Oh," The boy mumbles, glancing over at Julian and meeting gold with red. "He's probably alright, Win usually comes back. He's a city wolf; he likes to go to bars and cause a ruckus. Don't worry much."

"Thanks, that makes me feel better. I'm not too worried, I just thought I would be of aid and come see if he was just walking the property line or summat." The blond sighs, reaching down to run his fingertips through the river. The water feels cold on his skin, leaving a sharp sting the longer he keeps his palm in. "This rock always been your spot?"

Marcus nods his head, leaning to lay on his back and close his eyes with soft breaths. "I like to come out here to think. It's only good in the dead of the morning, otherwise, the sun is too bright and the water gets noisy. Did Brent get your message?"

"Yep. Says he has no idea what they've done; they haven't taken our territory or our food. I just can't imagine who would've if not them." He grumbles, lowering his palm to the boy's knee and causing his jeans to darken at the water growing on the fabric. "Sometimes I feel like it's you and me and everybody else is working behind our backs."

The beta brings a sigh to his lips, running his hands against his face. He can't bear the way Jools talks about how angry this dispute makes him; he's supposed to be Marcus' rock, the one who kept him grounded. Lately, it seems everything disturbs Julian and makes him uneasy, stressed. He wouldn't want to be the conveyor of bad news, but is he concealing something the brunette should know? "You know you can talk to me if there's anything on your mind. I'll listen... I'd never judge you, J."

"I know, darling," He huffs, laying down next to his servant. "I know. I'll get better, I promise. I just have some things on my mind and I don't know how to put them into words."

"I have the same problem," Marcus admits, squinting up at the pale sky painted in pink and blue. The sun grows redder as it crawls up on the horizon, bringing a sudden warmth to the chilled air. "I know it's not good to keep things in, but sometimes I think it's the best way to cope. Do you think someone in the pack could've tampered with the boundary line and made it smell like Defiant marked it? I know not all of our packmates are loyal to the rule that rivals can't be friends."

"I've thought about it, but nobody really comes to mind. I mean, I think I have a loyal pack! Ted or Georgie would never do that, they care about the stability of the pack just as much as I do. Davie's too invested in his new love interest to care, and Benji and the rest of the betas are the goddamn most faithful members I've got. The omegas are scared; they'd never do anything to sacrifice the wellness of our family." He says loudly, coming up to throw a few stones into the water angrily. "I'd beat the hell out of whoever's playing with me. I just don't know who to accuse!"

"You could accuse me," Marcus jokes, wiggling an eyebrow. The blond jolts his head back, a dirty grin on his lips. In a moment he throws the brunette off of the rock and into the water, following after him after a scream of shock from the icy temperature. "Goddammit, Jools! It's fucking freezing!"

"You'll swim it off," He chuckles evilly, throwing his clothing to the side and stripping down to his underwear. The alpha starts towards paddling downstream, following the flow of the river. "Better catch up before you lose me."

"Fuck you," The younger boy laughs, paddling off down the stream after taking his own garments off. He huffs to catch up to his friend, jumping on his back to knock him under the water. As soon as he resurfaces the blond attacks Marcus, throwing himself atop the boy and dunking him down into the freezing water to tickle him. "Aidez-moi! Aidez-moi! The big bad wolf is attacking me!"

"Grrrrr," Julian chuckles, biting at his neck as they coast down the stream, the water carrying them. Breathless, the brunette clubs the alpha in the torso and throws him up against a sharp rock, hearing the breakage of something tearing against it. At this Jools gives in, clenching his teeth at the sting in his back that's positively going to bruise, if not bleed. "Fair game, loser."

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?!" Marcus distresses, leaning in to peck his lips. Jools shakes his head, muttering, "I'm fine", yet the beta can't be careful enough and so pulls his friend to the shore, revealing a small gash in his back. The skin is broken, and blood trickles out slowly as the water drips down his body. "Oh my god, does it hurt? I'm sorry-"

"It's fine, I can barely feel it," The blond giggles, leaning up against a pine tree as the color drains out of his face. He shivers slightly, the cool air sending goosebumps up his arms. "You pack quite a punch, smart-ass."

"What can I say, I was trained for battle by the best." He winks, coming in from the river with a small handful of water. The beta washes out his friend's wound, applying pressure with his hands until the bleeding stops. "I'll wrap this when we get back to the manor. You should shower, the river water might not do well with your cut. I'll help you. Don't do anything but rest today."

"Darling, the water in the house is river water. Don't be so concerned, I'm completely alright." He says softly, stroking the man's cheek. "Is something wrong?"

"I just..." He stumbles over his words like the water pouring over the rocks, broken and lazy. "I just don't ever want something to happen to you. I can't live my life without you in it. If you died, I'd-"

"Marcus Alan Hamblett, stop those thoughts of yours," Jools says sternly, his red eyes dull and uncomfortable. He can't bear to wonder why the beta would ever be so concerned about him dying, or getting seriously injured at that. It was mutiny, and only three words from Jools could fix that. But is he ready to admit those three words? "I'm not going to die anytime soon. I'm a very young wolf, and so are you! I have good genes and I'm very tough, I won't leave you until both of us are too weak to stand, O.K.? You're my best friend."

As they start their walk back to the manor (clothed, luckily), Marcus stays quiet and looks ahead at the path, avoiding eye contact with the alpha. Julian nurses his wound, carrying his shoes in his opposite hand, catching a few glances here and there with his friend as they stroll through the pack property. He knows he should ask the brunette what's bothering him so much lately like he has something on his mind that's eating him alive like a stomach bug. It's not his business to prod, but Marcus has never been so silent in the two years the blond knew him.

"Hey, can you not be so reserved for a minute? You're making me feel like I did something wrong," Jools finally asks, moving his tennis shoes to the opposite hand and wrapping their palms together. The beta takes this gladly, squeezing slightly and letting a soft sigh out from his lips, always puffy from so much action in the bedroom. "Are you alright?"

"Don't you see I'm trying?" He snaps suddenly, sending a shock down the opponent's whole body. He opens his lips to speak, cocking an eyebrow and suggesting he quiet his tone as they're so close to the road that a human may spot them.

"Trying? What are you trying to do?" Julian mutters, stopping them and resting his hands on his hips. "There's nothing you need to be doing, Marcus."

"Are you that blind?" The boy snorts, turning around and staring up at the sky with a soft, stressed chuckle. "Do you not see what I want from you? If you don't feel the same about me, why don't you just say it to my face?! Just say it, J, let it out. I can take the hate. I've always taken it, with every guy that I've ever thought loved me. 'You're my best friend', is all you can say whenever I'm sitting there practically begging for you to say it!"

"Marcus, I.." The alpha is speechless, running his thumb over his lips to wonder why they're so broken. The beta stomps his feet, walking in circles, tearing up the ground and his own mind. It occurs to him that he never should've doubted if Marcus felt the same; he obviously did, and he's felt that way since the day Jools turned him. What reason does he have not to love him, other than the fear that his packmates would hate him for it?

"Hey, hey, come here, stop being hard on yourself," He begs, coming over to the boy and cradling him in his arms. The brunette fusses, trying to break out of his grip, but of course, being the alpha male has it's advantages when it comes to strength. Eventually, he gives up, sobbing against Julian's chest. "It's okay, you're okay, we're okay. I'm sorry I've treated you the way I have. The truth is I just haven't found the right time to say it. I didn't think you felt the same."

"Why wouldn't've I felt the same?" He stresses, sniffling. "Everybody is in love with you. You're the alpha male, for god's sake. You're meant to be loved. I'm just a nobody that you turned."

The blond drops his glare, his forehead leaning against his lover's and keeping a grasp solid against his skull. "I'm going to get sappy, and please bear that I'm awful with words. I did come to find you. I would never step foot out of that manor by myself unless you were beside me. I know it was only a few hours, but I could not stop thinking about the fact that I may never see you again. Do you understand that I, the alpha, have been taught that I am not capable of love and that my love is solely put into the hands of my pack? And do you understand now, Marcus, that I am breaking that rule? I am going to tell you something that I've wanted to tell you for a long time. I don't know what will happen if I do say it, but I'm going to regardless because it is the truth, my darling." He takes a deep breath, then places his nose against the man's, beautiful red eyes meeting golden. "I love you, Marcus."

***

The morning is soft, light breaking through the windows as if it's simply avoiding waking the two figures inside of the bedroom. Two breaths, steady but not in time, can be heard escaping the swollen lips of two werewolves, ticking like a clock. If there would be a clock in the room it wouldn't be working, for anything breaking the silence in the space would've caused the man to lose days of sleep. Andrew Davie needed complete silence when he slept; he used to spend summer nights on his wood floor in his childhood bedroom, begging to his mother that a fan would do no good. He would rather have slept in a pool of his own sweat than miss the chirping of the songbirds in the morning.

Hopefully Ginger is a deep sleeper.

The girl and the boy dream with no covers over their bodies stripped down to the bare undergarments. They're not chilled the slightest, keeping each other warm with their pale freckled skin and heat from the simple thoughts of their act last night. Their appearance would show they did something unthinkable; body-on-body, lots of heavy breathing, gasping and howling. Though two of those descriptions were correct, the wolves had been quiet. One reason being the sake that they lived among almost fifteen others of their kind, and the other being a simple need for a quiet moment administered among themselves, and only them.

Davie can admit as he fractures an eye open that he hasn't slept so adequately in his life, nor has he felt any sorer than he is in a long while. It feels good, though, to know his bones are still capable of doing anything of the dynamic, and the aching in his back would give him an excuse to lay in bed all day and draw shapes against his lover's skin, listening to her whimper slightly at her touch. No, he would enjoy this day. There hadn't been this beautiful of a morning since he was a child. Maybe he would take Ginger down to the river for a swim if it got any warmer. Or, they could stay right here.

The redhead stifles up a yawn in a few moments of the boy grazing over her skin, and she bats his hands away playfully. However, after rolling over to attempt to get more rest she pokes an eye open, and giggles slightly with her cute little American accent. "Thought you were someone petting me. I worried for a moment."

"I'll only pet you when you're back into your feral form," He says with a smile, leaning up on his elbow and watching as she brings herself into reality, sinking into his skin as a few goosebumps bring themselves up onto her skin. The brunette drags the quilt up over her body, leaning down to peck Ginger's cheek and let his lips linger for a bit too long. "How we feeling?"

"Hurt," The girl laughs, hiding her face under the blanket. "My rump does not feel normal."

"My back doesn't feel any better, trust me. Well, we'll stay in here today, how does that sound?"

"Bring me coffee and I might agree," The she-wolf insists, pawing at his bare, hairy chest before Andrew grumbles and rolls off the mattress. As soon as he stands he howls in pain, clutching his lower back. The woman pokes her head out of the nest of covers, her gold eyes concerned. "O.K.?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just went a little too hard, I'll bring some painkillers up." He stumbles down the stairs after pulling his bathrobe on, reaching his arms up for a yawn to find himself surprised at a small spread of meat on the counter. Smelling the delicious food, he smiles to himself and turns around to the dining table, noting Jools' absence. "Since when do we have food?"

"Since when are you clutching your back like you had the best sex in the world?" Ted raises an eyebrow, looking over his book with a crooked smile. Davie turns crimson, gathering a plate with a few slices of fried venison. "You did have sex! Holy shit, you're not gay after all!"

"I'm offended to think you had assumptions," The beta disregards, hiding his face as he pours coffee out of the glass pot into two ceramic mugs for he and his mate. Picking his things up, the man approaches the alphas. "No, really, we have food and Jools is gone? This is weird. It's also wonderful, I'm not on edge for the first morning in a long time. There must be something wrong."

"Benji took down a doe and a few fawns last evening, he took out some omegas to mark the line and it turned out to be the perfect time to hunt. Jools went for a run." He shrugs, sipping on his own mug of coffee, golden curls spilling off his hairline and in front of his pretty eyes. Edward, though he had always been called Ted or even Tedward when his packmates decided to push his buttons, had always been the most handsome of their members, even when he needed a haircut. "I think he took his boy with him. Winnie's not back yet."

"Mm." Sighing, the man starts up the staircase, knowing it was best he tended to the most important thing in his life right now. "Okay. I'll try to call him later, maybe he'll pick up. Oh, and Ted?" The alpha lifts his glare, waiting for a response. "I want to introduce someone to everybody tonight if that's alright. Think we could get everybody in one place?"

"Sure, Davie," The blond grins halfheartedly, returning to his book. "Take some painkillers, you're walking like a wounded hound."

"Here's your coffee, honey," Andrew greets as he returns to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Ginger thanks him with a small kiss to the cheek, cradling the cup in her hands as he takes a seat next to her with the plate of venison, offering out a third of the portions. "Benji caught this yesterday. First time you've had venison, no?"

"It's good," She nods, chewing the soft meat between her sharp teeth. "I like what I eat here. It's much better than what I used to eat."

"Dog chow is nothing but chemicals and ground up bones, it would never suffice what real meat tastes like. Ever had anything from a fast food restaurant? Like a cheeseburger?" He ponders, sipping on his coffee and peering out of the window at the blue sky. Ginger shakes her head plainly. "It's not any good either compared to what you can hunt down, trust me. We tend to prefer starving than buying food from the grocery. Once it's in season, we take what money we have and buy the basics from the market- flour, sugar, tea, yeast, salt, coffee. It keeps us for most of the season as long as we can catch the rest of the meal."

The redhead finishes gnawing at her share of elk, sipping down her coffee as Andrew does the same and glares down at his book. "You have a different life than I did. I like it. I wish I grew up like you."

"I didn't grow up here," He says seriously, closing his volume and reaching for the small bottle of painkillers he had brought from downstairs. The man downs a few then takes the younger's palm, shaking two out. She frowns, touching the pills with her fingertips. "Put them on your tongue and take a drink of coffee." Ginger does as he says, swallowing the medicine and showing a toothy smile. "Good. You'll feel better in a bit. If you keep hurting, let me know. I can ask Jools if he has anything stronger."

"Is he your dad?" She asks the oblivious, and before Davie can laugh hysterically he realizes that would make sense to any outsider, werewolf or not.

"No, he's not. I never knew my dad, my mom never really talked about him." The man shrugs, his coffee against his chest to encapsulate the warmth. "I've only known Jools for two years. I've only been here, in fact, for two years. I used to be human before I got turned so my friend wouldn't be alone. One of our three alphas, Ted, actually bit me, he was my donor. Jools didn't have it in him to make me suffer in that way."

"That's nice. Davie, I have to tell you something..." Ginger sighs, setting her cup down on the bedside table and leaning into his warmth. "I'm gonna turn back today. I can feel it."

He can't make love to her.

He can't tell her all of his secrets.

He can't kiss her. 

He can't know what it feels like to be truly loved by someone. 

"I'm very sorry," She hangs her head, brushing a hand over his facial hair and stroking it. "If I could be human forever, I would. I would trade anything so that I could be with you."

Andrew subdues his stare towards the wall, letting an exhalation fall from his lips. There's nothing he can do about the situation except remind himself that one day, hopefully soon, Ginger would turn back and they would be able to do all of the things they had done the last evening together. As a wolf, however, she would be limited to games of fetch in the yard and laying at his feet. Is all of that worth it, worth all he's done for her to accept she wouldn't be her natural form forever?

Of course it's worth it. 

"We have to go swimming," He announces instantly, jumping from the bed and stretching his body so that a grin crosses his face. "I have to show you the territory, and the river, because I want you to see how beautiful the world is on two feet."

And so he does. The man takes his lover outside of the manor into the fields, showing her all of the wonders beyond the room they had been cooped up in. He takes her to the river, the cold river freezing their bare feet, slick and wet against the rocks to cross to the opposite end of the stream. They swim downstream, then upstream, stopping for kisses and games of splashing water and tussling like brothers on a hotel bed. 

"If you want your shirt back, you're going to have to chase me for it!" The brunette jogs out of the woods on his more nimble feet, carrying in his grasp Ginger's borrowed grey t-shirt. Breathless, she follows after the garment, too careless and stupid to realize the horrors a human would think of a woman running in a field topless, dripping in water and chasing after a man of huge proportions, too huge for an Earth-dweller to ever grow. 

"Fuck you!" The redhead screams, taking to her four limbs to jump onto his back and knock him onto the ground below. They wrestle in the dust, placing bites on each other's skin like their natural forms would have, barely able to take gasps for air in between the beating of their hearts so full of love for each other. 

Davie throws her onto her back, his hands pressing down against her clavicles and baring a cheeky smile. "You learned that word from me last night, didn't you?"

Ginger spats, turning red in the freckled cheeks. "My vocabulary has been enhanced ever since I met you, Andy. Now give me my shirt back before I bite your nipple off."

"As much as I want to imagine that would feel nice, something inside tells me I would cry like a little infant. Here you go, baby." He slips it over her skin, allowing her out of the mud to sit next to his body. The werewolf strokes her cheek with his nails, smiling oh-so wide, feeling for the first time in a very long eternity an indescribable satisfaction. The green in her eyes, the dots across her nose, the childish expression splattered across her face as he offers affection. She's just as precious as God's favorite angel, and Davie's not even religious. "Hey, just so you know, I like you just as much as a wolf. You're the same person in my eyes."

"I like you just as much as a wolf, too," Ginger pecks his cheek, sunburn splattering her shoulders. The pale skin hadn't been treated well by the hot summer sun, unaware of the harmful rays of the monster in the sky. "I was thinking last night about how I wanted to go back to the city. But then I thought about you, and I want you to come with me."

He nods his head, just agreeing to any decision regarding the young werewolf. "Yeah, I want to go back to the city, too. We'll go together as I told you."

"A house along the Thames?"

"A house along the Thames," Andrew kisses her lips hard, sealing the promise. As he enjoys the moment, lips on lips, tongue in mouth, a smell reeking of flesh breaks the moment and he jets his frame up faster than the speed of light, lifting his human nose to the air. Death was nearby. "Ginger, we have to go. Something is not right around here."

He grabs her hands and pulls her to her heels, grasping tight as his nostrils follow the scent down the field and towards the edge of the boundary line, separating Greycrest from Defiant.

"I smell it too. Are we in danger?" The woman demands slowly, keeping close to her friend's side. 

"I don't know," Davie admits, tearing away for a moment to push away a few bushes. Following the plants is something he's never wanted to see in his life; not today, and not ever again.

Winston Marshall's dead corpse lays against the cold, hard ground, blood splattered around the dirt and debris of the spring leaves. His eyelids are open, revealing the whites of his eyes tucked back in death. Through their stark appearance, the sight of fear is evident on his face. He had been murdered brutally, quick enough that only a single cut against his throat brought the life out of his body. Of all the people in the world, werewolf or not, that Davie would have chosen to join his ancestors in the graves of the underworld, Winnie wouldn't have even made the top one thousand. Who could've done such a thing?


	7. No Man Is An Island

"As all of us know, Winston was one of the most loyal pack members we have come to know in the years of Greycrest," Jools preaches, pacing around at the head of the living room. A tumbler of whiskey wraps around his pale skin, shining a beautiful gold against the flickering orange light of the grand fireplace behind his frame. In front of the collective, he clears his throat and shoots a glare at Davie, Ginger in her wolf form at his knees. "Some of us knew him better than others, but one thing all of us is able to admit is that we appreciate every moment we shared with Winnie, whether that be sharing a meal or a game of footy in the front yard."

"He loved footy," Liza sobs, tears falling into her hands. Benjamin reaches out and rubs her shoulder, reassuring her that though her dear friend would be missed, things would improve with him. Grieving was always a process he could do quickly. "I just can't fathom who had it in their heart to slaughter his innocent self."

"The reasoning behind his death will be dealt with tomorrow; tonight, we grieve for the loss of our friend and packmate." Julian takes a sip of his drink, crouching down at the hearth as the fire crackles behind him. "Ted, Ben, I want you to bury him under the tree behind the manor. The rest of us will spend the evening in silence. It's the least we can do to honor our mate. Now, aller!"

Ginger follows as Andrew carries his heavy feet up the old staircase, creeping into the bedroom as he closes the door behind her tail, careful to avoid catching it in the hinges. He sighs, resting down on the edge of the mattress, his face in his hands. The wolf carries on vigil at his heels, licking her lips before releasing a breath of air from her snout.

He lets out a sniffle as his hand strokes her red fur. "I wish you would've known him, Ginger. Winnie would've loved you to pieces; he would've been so happy for me."

The wolf looks up at him with her gold eyes, offering a small lick to his palm for support.

"I know. I'll get over it. It's just hard," Davie shrugs his shoulders, tracing the engraving in the wood planks under his wearing shoes. "I've never lost a friend like him before. I feel his presence even as we speak... he was always so good at listening. Winnie never made me feel like I was selfish for thinking I shouldn't have sacrificed my life for Marcus' happiness."

Ginger pads away across the floor, jumping up onto the dresser and retrieving the newspaper between her teeth. She nudges it against her partner's knee before he takes it, chuckling behind his sorrows at her offer to make him feel fine. However, she fans the pages with her nose, stopping at the classifieds and barking at the flat listings. Of course, a house along the Thames.

He sighs heavily, looking down at his friend with dooming yellow pupils. The dog's reflection sparkles behind their sorrow. "Oh, Ginger, I know how badly you want to get out of here. So did Winnie. It's just... these things cost money, you know? I don't have any experience with anything except crying myself to sleep."

She casts her glare to his guitar, dusty and forgotten against the wall next to the album player. He had played for her when she was healing, old songs by Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan filling the room when speech couldn't suffice how he was feeling. Andrew encompassed an astonishing voice, deep and hollow like the bottom of a well. He shut his eyes when he played, fixing his heart into it, incompetent of his mistakes on chords and voice cracks. The beta was sufficient, of course, but his talent could take years to perfect.

"Right," Bowing his head, the man lays back on the mattress and blows a strand of hair from his eyes. "I'm supposed to do that. Well, I can't make enough in a day, we'd be homeless in the city for months."

"I can get you the money." Out of the doorway where he had been spying on the couple for some moments, Marcus toes into the bedroom, crossing his arms over his chest that had seemed to grow thicker as the months passed. Possibly, he had actually started lifting for personal satisfaction, but more accurately, his title was getting to his head and he was working on making himself look hot in the alpha's bedroom.

Ginger bellows, showing her yellow teeth behind her muzzle as Andrew steps up and approaches him, snorting in his face. "Get out of my room."

"This isn't your room, you know," He sneers with hot breath, rolling his yellow eyes the same as his counterpart. "It was ours for two years, and would've been mine for eternity if you hadn't brought yourself into my life."

"You fucking bastard." Putting his hands on Mark's shoulders, the musician shoves, noticing with little surprise the bedroom workouts seemed to be doing the beta well. He pushes back, the two tussling before the female werewolf pins the curly-haired to the floor, ready to rip his face off as it grows with evident fear. Before she can take a bite of his flesh, Davie pulls her form back and wraps his hands around her throat, the girl growing limp in his grip.

"Wait until Jools finds out what his newest pack member did to his Luna," Marcus snickers evilly, plucking himself up as Ginger growls ferociously and tries her damned hardest to break from the man's firm hold. "I was just going to help you out. The least I could do to get you out of my life was lend you a few hundred for a month's rent. At least you two would be off my ass for once, yeah?"

"I'd never take charity from you, I can get the money myself just fine." He releases the wolf, pointing to the bed. The female takes her place, letting out a snort before settling on the mattress. "Besides, where could you ever get half a thousand pounds? You're as broke as a cocked-up skive."

Marcus shrugs, chewing on his nails. "Jools is loaded, he just doesn't use it for the good of other people. You could... I dunno, do me a favor?"

The boy breaks into a comical grin. "You're blackmailing me. What do you desire?"

"I want you to confess you killed Winnie. Make up a lie, I don't care. It'll make Jools' life a little easier."

"Why the hell would I do that?" Andrew screams, shooting arrows just by the look in his eyes. "He was my friend, I'm just as saddened as his death as you are! Jools'll kill me if I admitted that! Are you trying to get me slaughtered? You are, aren't you?"

"Five-hundred, Drew," The brunette smirks, sauntering out of the room. He closes the door behind his frame, shooting a middle finger before disappearing into the hallway.

***

The sun was just making it's way up against the eastern morning sky as Davie and Ginger looked at their first listing for flats in the city. The place was on the fourth floor of a shabby set of brick apartments, a view of the Thames so close you almost taste its murky water in the air. The werewolves, for that reasoning of their extensive capability to smell scents to their fullest potential, loved the area immediately.

"I think you'll find the flat charming, it's just the place for a bachelor and his dog," The realtor, a young man in a blue-clad dress shirt and slacks, unlocks the door to the old apartment and allows his viewers, Andrew and Ginger at his side wagging her tail contently, to take a look. "It's really not as bad as it looks on the outside."

"It's certainly... got it's charm," The man chuckles out of disgust, not surprised that the place looked as unhappy as he did. It was painted a solid cream with peeling gray carpet, windows dirty and obviously leaking down the walls from the constant rain and weather of London. From years of living in the horrors of the Greycrest manor, however, it's nice to see this place could be his own; away from Jools, Marcus, and the creatures he never wanted to be like.

The girl seems pleased with the space, unlike her counterpart. She trots around cheerfully, nose sticking into the bedroom and cabinets, sniffing around with a satisfied grimace on her snout.

The realtor shoots a smile to the two, a solid, faked smile against his lips proving he was aware of how terrible the condition of the cheapest flat was. He wasn't doing the best job at making it heaven over hell. "The landlord wants to do some cosmetic updates. I wouldn't worry about the condition, though, with such a view of the river as it has!"

The apartment certainly did have the views. From a wide window across the living room, if you could call it that from flaying wallpaper, the blueish water sparkled in the sun and welcomed many tourists and locals alike making their rounds. It would be beautiful with a cup of coffee in the morning, Andrew curled up on the sofa with Ginger half-naked. They didn't need television when the drama around this neighborhood provided enough entertainment for an opera hall.

"Right... so, can I ask how much the down payment would be?" The werewolf sets his hands on his hips, catching a glimpse of his friend as she puts her paws on the window ledge.

The seller raises an eyebrow, frankly surprised by his interest. Maybe the housing business wouldn't be so bad after all. "Two-hundred plus first month's rent. Five-hundred total."

A stinger. Taking a breath, the brunette rakes a hand through his messy locks and remembers the view. A house by the Thames. Well, it wasn't a house, but it wasn't just by the Thames. It was the Thames. "O.K... I'll think about it. Thanks for showing it to us. I still want to see what else is available before I make a decision."

The female werewolf yips as soon as her friend is free from the realtor, pushing his hands into his jean pockets as they stroll by the water. She tugs at his shirt, motioning towards the flat they had just toured. He brushes her teeth off, offering an amused glare.

"That place sucked more than our room in the manor. I don't even know if the radiator worked. You don't want to live there, do you, baby?"

She nods her skull, ears flopping slightly.

When has Davie ever been able to say no to those pretty golden eyes? "Ugh, fine. I'll consider it. You do realize Winnie would kick my ass if I told him I bought that piece of shit, right?"

Ginger huffs, stopping to drink from the water for a moment. Andrew lets a chuckle slip past his lips and leans against a light post, taking in the many sights and happenings of the city. Before him, there's a small group of people surrounding a street corner, causing him to raise his eyebrows. His pointy ears twitch at the careful strum of a guitar; a busker, playing something by the Beatles. He has to see how this kind of business operates.

"Hey, you're really good," He elucidates once the crowd dies out, revealing a human with dark brown hair tied up in a bun. He's grown a proper mustache, clutching the acoustic guitar against his chest as he throws a smile up. "I play guitar, too. Can I ask how much you make a day?"

The busker reveals a small stack of bills that have accumulated in a red coffee can next to his amp. Andrew raises an eyebrow, golden eyes widening as they shimmer in the sunlight.

"Wow, you must be famous, I couldn't make that much even if I played Hendrix all day."

"Give it a go," Handing over the old instrument, the man gives up his seat and ushers for Davie to take his place and play. Shocked at the offer, he takes it gladly and checks for tuning, a beautiful sound emitting as he fingers some chords. In a moment, he plays a quiet song, not much but the wolf and the busker to hear. "Original?"

He turns red in the cheeks. "Yeah, original."

"Can you sing?"

"I can try," The musician shrugs a shoulder halfway. In a short moment, words escape his throat, coated thickly with emotion. Of course, they're not worth a record deal, but it's evident the werewolf means every statement as a few people have stopped to see him strum. Once he finishes, small applause erupts and a ten lands at his feet before he can thank who threw it. He looks down at the money longingly. "Was it that good?"

"You're not bad, wolf boy," The older man admits, accepting the guitar and packing up for the day. "Say, me and some mates are hosting a club night on Friday at the Social, do you think you could play a few songs in between acts? We could use a soloist if you're not stage shy."

Davie has to catch his breath before he can think of a reply. Of course, he's stage shy. But an opportunity like this? It could be everything; his Friday nights, his future, his life. Not a full moon could provoke him to pass it up. "I'd love to."

"Good, here's the flyer," The busker stuffs a scrap of paper into his fist, a small list of the bands playing. Though he doesn't recognize any of the names, it's an honor just to be included among people with professional names. He'd have to think of a stage name. "Show starts at ten. If you come in at nine, we can find you a spot. Ask for Christof. Drinks are on the house."

It's not until the evening hits back at the manor that the excitement stops pouring out of every bone from his bones.

"So, you didn't kill Winnie?" Julian wonders slowly at his desk, a cigarette folded between his fingers as he taps the ash against the glass tray. It falls without a sound, releasing a gleam of orange as the ash is freed, spreading smoke about the bedroom.

Davie snorts his nose, rolling a golden eye. He crosses his arms against his chest. "Of course I didn't kill him. He was my friend, he hated being a monster just as well as I did. If anything, I'd rule his death as a suicide. Stop questioning every last pack member and move on; he's in the ground, Jools."

The blond-headed sneers, canines poking out of his mouth in a low growl before they wrap around the burning fag once again. He glares at Ginger, laying underneath her master's legs with her head in her front paws, looking bored as usual. "And she didn't kill him?"

Once realizing that was a notably reliable explanation to all of these happenings, the brunette rethinks ignoring every question the alpha had asked him earlier. The atmosphere is heavy and warm, complete with the windows covered in black fabric as they usually were, lamps lighting the few pieces of furniture the room held. It's stuffy and hot, and Davie needs to think up a good enough statement that can get he and his lover out of here as quickly as usual. They needed to pool together a plan to get out of here for good.

"No, Ginger's not a killer and she's been in my eyesight from the moment I met her." He shrugs his broad shoulders, brushing a bit of dust from his jeans.

"A little bird told me she attacked Marcus last night, am I wrong?" The alpha says, raising an eyebrow. Andrew rolls his eyes, brushing off the statement. "So she did. I'm not happy to hear that, even if Mark has been on edge lately. Come here, girl, let Jools see if you're a killer."

The red wolf pads slowly over to his form, growling as he lifts his clothed sleeve and offers his pale arm to her mouth. Instantly she snaps, taking his skin in her teeth and pressing down. Davie curses himself and reaches for her muzzle before the blond pushes him away and watches intently as blood drips to the floor from the newly-inflicted wound, her mouth still holding on as hard as a stone. He lets out a dense chuckle, barely flinching at the pain rolling throughout his body.

"She has wits, she learns from you." Julian releases her grip and looks down at his skin, marks of four canines bloodied and deep. "They'll definitely scar. I'll put her down as a suspect regarding Winston's murder; besides that, I'm not blaming you for his death. Now, go get the first-aid kit and clean this mess up for me."

"Yessir!" For a moment he leaves, then returns with the large medical kit. He leans down to wash the man's arm, taking a few bandages between his teeth as he disinfects. "I actually was going to ask you something important, but all of this bustle around Win makes it sound a lot more suspicious. How would you feel about me leaving the pack?"

The man stutters over his words, rubbing his face with his hands and letting out a heavy groan. "I knew this day would come, and I'm not surprised you want to after all the shit we've been dealing with lately. I wish I could beg on my knees for you not to- you're a strong fighter and I was looking forward to training Ginger to be a tracker, she seems to have a good nose- but I have to be the good leader here. Of course you can leave, but I have to tell you that once you leave, I can't take you back. Do I make that clear, Andrew?"

"Yessir," He mutters, lathering the bite marks in an antibiotic ointment. Jools shivers at the shock, gritting his teeth together to suffice a yelp. "I'm sorry she bit you. She usually doesn't do that."

"Happens to the best of them. Can I ask what's interested you more than your loyalty to the pack? You wouldn't just leave without a cause; it's much safer here than anywhere else for a werewolf, that's why Winston never left. Doing it for love, then?"

Davie ceases wrapping the injury then passes a crumbled piece of paper from his pocket to the alpha, backing away in fear of irritation. Jools snickers and looks up with humored red eyes, the music flyer slumping to his desktop.

"A gig, really? You're not even on the list, mate."

"I'm going to be!" He assures, folding his palms together. "They scheduled me to play in between the bigger acts. Please understand it's all I've ever wanted, Jools."

"You and Marcus have the same motives; trying to get everything you've ever wanted from me." He snorts his snout, rising from his seat and making his way to the door to see the beta out of the chamber, leaning against the doorway with his lanky body showing off his evident ribs and little muscle. Even if he was an alpha, he certainly wasn't in any way salubriously sufficient to lead the pack accurately. Add that to the list of reasons the brunette wants to get the fuck out of here. "He wants to be Luna, you want to be a musician. I see why you two were best mates, you're both as annoying as a toddler begging for a new plaything. Sure, go do your thing. It'd be an honor to see you disappoint, Davie."


	8. You Were The Ocean, When I Was Just A Stone

As the days fell like leaves from the trees in late October, Friday hit quicker than expected. Between rehearsing for his set, looking at flats in the city, and dealing with the seemingly never-ending drama surrounding the death of his friend, Davie was so between the floorboards with his life he barely had the chance to press an eye at the calendar. But sure enough, he walked past it on his way to the bathroom with a toothbrush in his jaws, almost spitting out the foamy liquid as he saw the small red writing pasted underneath the date: Gig @ The Social. 9 pm.

"Tell me this isn't Friday," The beta insists as he runs into Ben exiting the shower, his pale body wrapped around a towel and eyeing his friend as his lips are surrounded in white toothpaste.

"'Tis Friday," The raven-haired boy shrugs a bare shoulder, still shiny from the water. He brings a few hands to dry his dark locks away from his face. "Got somewhere to be so early? It's barely evening, mate."

"I have a thing tonight..." Andrew curses, taking a swig of water and rinsing his mouth to reveal shiny white teeth, canines much too sharp to be mistaken for a dental implant. "A music thing. I'm playing at the Social and I cannot, I swear to you, Lovett, I cannot be late."

Benjamin seems pleased with the response, golden eyes shining as they share the washroom together to prepare for the day. "Really? That's wonderful! I've heard you play before, I didn't know you were good enough to get a gig, though. Would you mind if I came and watched?"

No, no, no, you can't come, the brunette thinks, mentally punching his brain until it breaks off of the stem and falls to the bottom of his skull. He imagines the crowd suddenly filled with thousands of werewolves, smirking with their sharp teeth, yellow eyes and evil glares, ruling every word and phrase that escaped his lips. The last thing he needs is a reminder of what he is while he's trying to be something else. A room full of blood-thirsty, judgemental were-creatures? Not in a million full moons. A room full of smiling, slightly retarded humans? He could deal with that.

"I... uh, I would like if you came, but I don't think you would enjoy yourself." He says in fake confidence, though knowing inside-and-out his friend was a music lover just as he and would indeed have a great time drinking and watching tonight's acts. "I've heard the crowd isn't supposed to be much. I'm just playing in-between acts, it's nothing special."

"You just told me you're worried about being late, and it's bloody six P.M.! You don't want me to come, do you, Drew?" His face plasters a comical grin, combing back his hair in the dirty mirror.

Davie lets out a sigh and leans against the doorframe. "It's not that I don't want you to come, it's just... it's my first show. Ever. I want it to be me and only me. If my friends came, I would freak out and I wouldn't want to disappoint and it would be a whole ass mess-"

"It's fine, I get it," Ben smiles halfheartedly, clapping him in the shoulder. He winks, sending a wave of relief down the musician's spine. Luckily, he wouldn't be seeing any friendly packmates at the gig tonight. "Have a nice time, and enjoy yourself. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Ben."

"No worries," He says warmly, pointy ear twitching underneath his hair. A small rumble of paws is approaching in the distance, announcing the arrival of the hunting collective. "Sounds like they're back. Your girl may have caught something, I would check if I were you."

At that moment, he's down the staircase in a flurry, racing out to the front porch to see a small flock of wolves returning from their afternoon hunt, towing a deer carcass between teeth of two omegas. He squints his eyes looking for Ginger, pride soaring in his heart already knowing his girlfriend was a part of taking down such a delicious creature.

"Good catch!" Davie greets without haste as they reach the manor, clapping Ted on his boney wolf shoulder. The werewolf grunts in thanks, sinking down to sit on the wood as the animals retreat to wash their catch. "You didn't happen to lose Ginger on your way back, did you?"

"She must've gone after a squirrel or summat," Joey, one of their omegas, remarks as he wipes some blood off his newly-changed palms. He raises his nose to the sky, sniffing contently. "I don't think she's far. She's a good hunter, you really oughta see her at work. So quick and quiet."

"That doesn't surprise me. Ginger has wits, she does, and she's not gentle. I'll go look for her." The creature travels off into the woods beyond the field, crossing his arms whilst in a gentle stroll. Once he comes to the river he pauses and sniffs along the soil, looking for a trace among the thistles. When he doesn't pick anything up, he brushes it off for Joey's better sense of smell and makes a beeline for the marsh, hoping she may have looked for a faster route to the house.

In a few long minutes, Davie starts to worry. He's tracked half of the territory- almost one-hundred acres, mind you- and nothing comes to cognizance regarding the woman he loves so much. She wouldn't last long beyond the territory line with fur so red and a memory close to that of an educated coyote (no offense to coyotes, they just weren't the brightest of canines). He beckons for her in the form of both her name and a howl, ears pricking for a response. When nothing arrives, the musician breaks into a jog back to the manor. Possibly, Ginger had returned quickly after he'd left.

Joey, Kenneth, and Ted are just finishing off scraping the deer of its inner guts in the yard when he makes it back breathlessly, head in fits of worries.

"Find her?" Ted asks casually, blood trickling down his bearded face from a few bites of the elk. He was alpha, of course, a snack here and there before the rest of the pack was just one of the luxuries he could enjoy daily.

Andrew shakes his skull, pacing back and forth. "No, I can't smell her anywhere on the territory. You didn't see her come back?"

"We split up on the way back; The three of us took the deer while she and Liza went opposite the river. Maybe they went for a walk and strayed a bit too far." The golden-blond shrugs his shoulders, not in bits of despair like his beta counterpart. "I wouldn't doubt they'll be back any moment now. Would you mind getting a pail of water?"

He returns with an overflowing metal bucket full of water from the spout, setting it down next to his friends and studying the doe they'd murdered. Its head is split from the body, leaning in the weeds with the final expression of dire fear across its eyes. Two years ago, the image would've made him sick and then depressed, but a long stare at it nowadays makes him prideful. Only something both intelligent and strong could bring down such a beast.

"Deer are so feeble-minded," Kenneth chuckles as he notices Davie gazing longingly at their catch, dipping a cloth into the water to brush the blood from his arms. "It took one of us to run it to the moor and another to break it's poor legs when it got there. We had her down in seconds; she didn't even smell us coming before taking her last breath."

Ginger could be doing the same, right this very moment. "I have to be somewhere right now. Can you three please call me when Ginger gets back? I didn't want to leave her here, but..."

"We'll take good care of her. It's a full moon tonight, I'll have her tag along with me. I'm sure she'll enjoy her first howl with the pack." Ted smiles warmly, the image of him covered in deer blood bringing a giggle amongst Davie's throat. "Have fun at your show." The brunette starts to question how he knew before remembering he had told Julian about the event a few evenings ago. Word spread amongst alphas faster than a tick. "I've heard you sing. I'm sure you won't disappoint."

"Thanks, Ted." And with that, the brunette hurries off to the city, eager to catch the subway with his guitar before the moon gets too high in the beautiful, open black sky.

***

The show goes better than expected. Davie performs a few songs in between many talented musicians, boys and girls alike, plucking his guitar to old folk covers he's known in the back of his head since he was an infant. He gets applause, not too heavy and not too quiet. He gets half-smiles when he sings, pretty women giving him longing looks of 'I date musicians' and 'God, I didn't know werewolves could be such lookers'.

Andrew gets along wonderfully with the fellows he plays alongside. He gets introduced to the friends of Christof, the busker he had met days before in the plaza. Kev, an experienced musician who played bass and piano, takes an even greater liking to him than the crowd did, offering him a place in the ruling of the next club night they put on. He agrees immediately, one-hundred percent, so many times yes before the group had to riddle down his excitement. He even alleged that he knew some people who worked in the record label industry, and if Davie worked vigorously and amended to some of the not-so-pretty things about his guitar abilities, he may be able to try out for a label one day.

The night is still elegant and passionate as the production concludes around midnight, and the musician throws down one-two-many free shots of whiskey and porter. He eventually waddles his way out of the club, people still straggling around the streets after the show. Slightly drunk and giggling under his breath at the soul excitement of a possible music deal in his thoughts, he makes his way to his truck, parked in an alley a few streets away to avoid the embarrassment of the old Ford. It wasn't an attractive car, and for a semi-attractive man, it was a dealbreaker.

Once he gets close enough to the vehicle to see it's chipping black paint shining in the streetlights, his pointy ears prick at a sound of a struggle. Was he walking straight into a scuffle? Bar fights were just one of the luxuries of this end of London; it wasn't the friendliest, but neither was the area he and Ginger were looking at in regards to living. They wouldn't have any issues, however, for a household of two werewolves was tougher than an ambush from a SWAT team. Yeah, they'd be free of complications wherever they chose to live.

Davie promptly comes to the conclusion that the sound is coming from the bed of the truck, and the image he sees once peering down into the back of the old vehicle is almost one he wishes to forget just as much as the picture of Winston Marshall's bloodied corpse. Liza Anne, tied up by her hands and feet, squealing for help with tape over her lips. Next to her form, a letter. Of course, he was being blackmailed. Good lord, what did he do to Ginger?

"Liza! Fuck, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry," His body quivering in fear, the beta rips the tape off of her mouth and helps her up, untieing the rope around her limbs. "This is all my fault, I didn't want you to get involved..."

"He-he- Davie, he has her. He has G-Ginger," The omega sobs into his arms as he cradles her close, brushing strands away from her forehead and softly cooing for her to calm. "You-you have to go now. He-he's gonna kill her if you don't. Read the no-note."

Though he can barely tear open the envelope due to the shock his body is experiencing, Andrew manages to unfold the piece of paper inside, scrawled in nobody else's handwriting except that of Marcus Hamblett's messy, stiff penmanship.

Davie,

Hope your show went well. Jools told me you were playing at the Social, and I almost couldn't believe him until he mentioned you were just a filler act. Werewolves don't headline. Anyway, I'm sure you've already guessed by Liza's filthy, promise-breaking mouth that I have your girl in my company. She's O.K., but she won't be for long. Need you to do me a favor. I wouldn't bring any friends if I were you; it's a public place. See you at Heaven. - Marcus

(Oh, and if you don't show up at all, Ginger is toast. Just saying.)

Heaven isn't a joint Andrew would've personally picked for an undercover werewolf meeting, and it certainly didn't live up to it's name. It was a gay club opposite in Charing Cross, popular and bustling every evening with men lying to their wives about watching the game with the mates. It smelled of spilled booze and sex, sweat dripping off the foreheads of every gentleman who poured out of its doors. It was disgusting regarding the acts that went on inside; but alas, it was a strip club, and that was to be expected by anyone even knowing the basic definition of such a joint.

It's also not a shock that Marcus chose to meet there; he knew Davie would be apprehensive, out of his realm, and embarrassed to an unprofessional level. Also drunk. Marcus was always a specialist at getting people drunk of out their minds regardless of how much he hated them.

"Here's some money- get a cab and go all the way back to the manor," The boy insists as he pulls up to the front of the club, handing Liza a small bundle of cash he had received as tips for his performance. The omega had relaxed progressively, sleepy against the window of the truck as they drove through the city streets. "I have to do this on my own."

"Be safe. I love you," Liza says, leaning in to peck his scruffy cheek and exiting the vehicle. The act wasn't in the slightest romantic; the two had always been like long-lost siblings.

The flashing lights from the neon sign of the Heaven send tremors of nerves into the were's body as he approaches the bouncer, getting in more smoothly than he had expected. Inside, he is instantly overrun with the stench of sweat and alcohol, smoke filling the air and loud, pounding beats ringing in his ears. People were everywhere- dancing, mingling, making out, drinking, smoking. Boys on boys, girls on girls, none of the opposite gender connecting lips.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" Sneers an older man coming in from the dancefloor, a young punk boy against his side. His breath smells of weed as he inches too close for comfort, showing teeth as he shoves past Andrew on his way to the door.

"Christ, he better make this quick," The beta mutters, pushing his way through the crowds and beams of iridescent lights. With his nose raised to the air, he tries to distinguish anything unhuman in the haze. It happens to be a noise, though, that sends his mind racing and his figure straining through people like they were curtains into a room.

In a corner booth sits Marcus, his legs crossed and his hands nursing in one a beer and in another a cigarette, looking well-content. He was in his element, surely. Next to him is the source of the sound; a hardy laugh coming from a werewolf adorned with red fur and a leather vest. Brent Cardway. What the hell was he doing here?

"Davie... come out wherever you are, I can smell you!" He bellows loudly, taking a puff of his cigarette. Andrew curses himself for not rubbing up against enough people or even better-pouring whiskey over his body- and pops up from behind a booth to reveal himself to the duo. Marcus keenly smiles, patting the seat next to him. "Have a seat, let's make this quick."

"Why the hell is he here?" The musician growls at the sight of Defiant's alpha, his red eyes foggy and blood-shot as he passes a blunt over to Davie. He politely declines. "I thought we were friends, Brent."

"I have yet to speak a word to you," Brenton chuckles boisterously like he had prior, taking a puff of the smoke around his claws. "I never said we weren't friends; Marcus here just happens to have something I want, and I wasn't going to pass up the chance to grab a few acres of territory from Greycrest's Luna now, was I?"

"You're not getting anything." Andrew pounds his fist on the table. "Give her to me and I won't make a scene."

"You're sitting at a booth in a gay bar with two homosexual werewolves, hun, you're making more of a scene than OJ Simpson on national television. Calm down, she's right here." At once, Davie gets a look at what Brent has been holding onto; at his side, laying on the floor, was Ginger, her muzzle taped together, eyes flickering shut. The beta jumps out of his seat before Brent grabs his shirt collar and pins him to the booth, growling. "I said sit. She's not dead, just unconscious. Play nice and you can have her back."

"Listen, Davie, you know what I want. I offered it to you days ago and since you insisted not to obey, I went ahead and took what was most precious to you." Marcus explains casually, throwing an arm across the head of the ripped leather seats. "You tell Jools you murdered Winnie, and you get your little dog back. No fights, no blood, nobody gets hurt. Understand what I'm asking?"

His golden eyes direct the attention to Ginger on the floor, and he lets a sharp blow of a kick inflict her side just to prove his point. The werewolf barely yelps, too drugged to even feel the pain.

"Enough of this," At last he elevates his hands, pupils glancing over at the hundreds of happy people in the crowd. They didn't have a clue how evil the world could be; one day you wake up a werewolf, your best friend hates you, and you have to lie about killing someone you love. Goodness, could he just catch a break one of these days? "Fine. Winnie, dead? My fault."

He rises from the booth, leaning down to begin to take Ginger into his arms before Marcus pins him onto the floor by force of his arms.

"You think I'm just going to let you get away that easily?" He giggles, pressing one hand against the opponent's throat just to keep him occupied against the club ground. "You really are twelve short of a dozen. You're coming home with me; confess up to Jools face-to-face. Then, you can have your bitch back. Brent here is going to keep her company while we're gone."

The ride back to the manor is silent apart from the quiet crackle of the old radio. Marcus drives while Davie sits shotgun, picking at his nails nervously to a detail that they bleed under the cuticles. He needed any sort of distraction at this point.

"You tell him you marked the boundary lines, too, and that you killed every last deer in the Epping so that we would all starve." The Luna explains suddenly, his hands on the steering wheel and gripping tight. "If you don't, I'm gonna-"

"You're making me admit all of your faults, aren't you?" Andrew finds that all the pieces of the puzzle are coming together; his ex-best friend was a complete maniac, hungry for only the love of someone who could never love him back. "You marked the boundary lines, you killed all of the deer, and you most certainly slaughtered poor Winston with a knife to the throat! Did you do all of this for Jools? I know you; how the hell do you hate me that much to near kill off your family?

Marcus snorts. "Family, yeah. I like being a werewolf, Drew, but I most certainly don't have an ounce of love for one. I didn't have a choice; I needed to make Jools vulnerable, otherwise, he wouldn't have made me his Luna. Being Luna is more than being the mate of the alpha; you forget I have more power than I ever had in my life, human or were. I have enough power to make you cover up all of my blunders, or you'll regret it."

Before Andrew can argue another phrase they pull up into the drive to the manor. In front of the house, the wolves have gathered, circling around something indistinguishable. Had there been another murder?

"What the hell is going on here?" Marcus furrows an eyebrow, shutting the truck off and making a beeline to the house.

"What, this isn't all a part of your elaborate plan to get me out of the pack?"

"No, it's..." He cuts off his speech, falling to the mud hard enough that his knees buckle and cause him to land chest-first. He howls mournfully, gripping the earth beneath his claws. His tears become one with the murky pool of blood before him, dripping like raindrops off the gutter of an old house. Before any being can mutter a word of sorrow for his loss, Marcus Hamblett curls up, the stark red plasma staining his cheeks as he rests his head upon a mass of soft, white fur. The boy sobs painfully, every cry escaping his lips more emotional than the last. His love had been shot by the light of the full, white moon. And everyone, except him, had been there for the last breath of the most magnificent wolf on Earth.


	9. Black Flies On The Windowsill

Julian Owen was shot on the clear night of June 16th by the blaze of the monthly full moon. He died a brutal, painful death by two bullets, one to the shoulder and one to the throat. Without Marcus by his side, he was vulnerable among the night moors with clean fur as vibrant white as snow. Without warning as well, the alpha had found himself wandering uninterrupted into the path of a seasonal deer hunter on the way to the howling rock, his pack just footsteps behind him when the rifle verbalized. He carried on walking without a limp until his body collapsed underneath him, taking three-hundred pounds along with it into the soft, moist grass below his paws. He was buried the night he died amongst Winston, under the grand oak tree where his parents had been laid to rest just years ago protecting the pack. An offering of elk bones, fresh pine sprigs, white and yellow daisies and more were placed above the heap, the proper burial for a leader.

The pack carried on as usual after the death of their alpha. Ted was granted his rightful place as leader, choosing Georgie as his mate and Ben and Marcus to stand beneath him. Although Marcus was proud of the position he held amongst the pack, grief never allowed him to seize the power available. Greycrest was said to have flourished after the removal of Jools, tales of the building of a new manor and expansion towards the east of the Epping being successful. Of course, it could never be proven, but a little bird once told Andrew Davie that the pack was in the greatest spirits since werewolves came to howl in the highlands south of the grandest city in the world.

Davie left the morning after Jools' death. He attended the burial gladly, Ginger by his side. The two had packed up the mere objects they owned; clothes, linens, the beta's guitar, and his records, and set to finding a better life along the Thames. They slept in the truck bed for a week before Andrew was offered a place in the attic above his now-manager Kev Jones' flat for an exchange of his musical talent three nights a week. The space was small and quaint, a view of the river visible from a mere peer out of the window, and it was the loveliest gift either the man or the woman could've received in a million moons. And, the man didn't really mind if his housemates were werewolves- he locked the door to the rest of the house every evening.

They decorated their little room with the intention as if they were staying forever, ignoring the fact that they planned to get their own flat when the man acquired enough money after purchasing food and basic necessities. A queen-sized mattress was left for them by the old owners of Kev's flat, and old quilts and sheets were available for them to use from the linen closet. Davie had his guitar and his record player displayed in the corner. Ginger had a pile of blankets to lay on and an ever-brewing pot of coffee to drink. Ted had even mailed some pictures to his favorite beta after learning he was living in the city; a few photos of the whole pack included, with a small message on the back reading "Even if you don't find real family in London, remember us, for we're your family too."

As they had the days to do whatever they wanted to do, Davie was set on teaching his girlfriend to read and write. She started with simple phrases, learning to spell her name and her new surname, the same as his. With work and frustration, the werewolf could make out a small sentence at the end of the first month, handwriting becoming less sloppy every day. Ginger could breeze through a children's book easily, but she was having more trouble with the hefty novels her boyfriend read throughout the day. With time, he promised, she would be an excellent reader and writer like her partner.

Davie tried to teach her to play guitar, but that was harder than any children's book on any library shelf. Ginger preferred to lay in front of the window when she was in her wolf form, staring at the tourists passing by, barking at the occasional squirrel who taunted her. In her human state, in which she was working violently hard to learn to keep longer than a few days, she enjoyed taking long naps on the big bed in the sun and listening to Davie practice his songs. She also liked to kiss him, and make love to him, but that was to be saved for the evenings after dinner where the two weren't so caught up in other work that they could enjoy each other's presence to the widest extent.

"Cute," Davie shrugs a shoulder as Ginger spins around in a dress. It looks so similar to the past ten that she's tried on that he could honestly care less about what features made it special.

The redhead frowns an eyebrow, poking a look into the mirror and ruffling the skirt. "You don't like it? I think it's quite pretty for the price."

"Of course I like it," He explains, crossing his arms against his chest and eyeing the garment up and down. It's plain white and short, above her knees with light lace and sparkles glimmering around the waist. "It's just not... you. The problem with thrifting is that no dress is going to highlight what it needs to. I yearn to buy you a new one, correctly altered and flawless."

"We don't have that kind of money," The woman giggles, exiting back behind the curtain to try on the last of the choices. Before long she pulls the cloth back and unveils something exceptional; a dress that looks heart-stoppingly superb on her, the perfect size as to where the waist isn't drooping and the neckline shows too much. She blushes, knowing the piece made her look astonishing, and Andrew initiates that he is all-aware.

"Baby, oh my goodness," He covers his mouth in surprise, pupils wide as the intently trace the outline of his partner. It has a lace corset along the beautiful white tulle skirt passing just below her knees. It ties at the top in a bow behind the neck and fits her figure too perfectly; the distinct garment for their perfect day.

They would be married the following week. Neither the creatures decided it would be worthwhile to wait until they exchanged hands in marriage; Davie had asked the first day they made changes to their little apartment if she would be interested in tieing the knot. After some explaining behind what exactly "tieing the knot" meant in basic human terms, the girl beamed excitedly and insisted she would love to be married to the werewolf she loved so dearly. He had saved her life, anyway, and anything she could do to prove herself worthy of being a good match was to say yes to his offer. Now, with little money in the bank but high aspirations for the signing of their certificate, the two were thrifting for a suit and a dress to properly accompany them to the courthouse and maybe, just maybe, have someone snap a few photographs for safe-keeping. For two very busy, broke half-humans, there would be no reason behind arranging a proper marriage if they could simply be legally bound with a pen and paper.

Regardless of the fact that they had only been together for about two months, werewolves didn't commonly ever find mates, and if they did, it was for the sole purpose of reproducing a new generation for pack stability. Without pack or need for reproduction, Davie and Ginger knew they had no other chances for attachment, and would most reasonably depend on each other until the end of their eras. Of course, neither minded being stuck together for eternity; they had enough to chat about and would never run out of caresses and lips to touch.

"I really want this one, if you don't mind," The ginger giggles shyly, curtseying in the mirror.

He pokes a look at the tag. Thirty-three euros. They couldn't do any better than that. "Yeah," Andrew sighs lightly, head flushed with the thought of needing to work an extra shift at the restaurant. In the late evenings, after dinner, he worked as a bartender, collecting up enough tips that allowed him to feed himself and Ginger, pay Kev for rent, and stash a bit in savings for their dreams and a new guitar someday soon. "I can ask for an extra hour tomorrow night. You look so pretty, love, I can't say no to that beautiful face. We'll get the dress."

The next stop on the agenda was to visit Terry's Café, also known as the location where Davie's mother was a waitress. Of course, he hadn't seen her in two years and was whisked away into the world of howling werewolves without a goodbye, but something inside insisted she was aware of his upcoming marriage. It would be silly not to invite her regardless of them being on bad terms.

Terry's Café was located in South London, a quaint gem of a restaurant known for existing for years prior to anybody's knowledge. It sold original, wonderful tea and bar snacks such as burgers and chips. It smelled like black coffee and maple syrup and was the perfect location for the son to catch his mother in a decent mood enough for her to forgive him for falling off of the face of the Earth. Plus, Ginger was there to convince her that he was leading a good life.

They take a seat in the café and wait to be approached by the woman, brushing off other waiters and busboys when they asked if they were ready to order. Until Philippa approached them with a pad of paper in her hand, they appeared invisible.

"What can I get you two?" She says sweetly, age just barely touching her forehead and cheeks. Davie lifts his glare, surprised she doesn't immediately scream and create a miniature reunion in the restaurant.

"Coffee for both, thanks. She takes hers black, I take mine with creamer."

"Gotcha." At that, the lady exits the table, and Ginger tosses Davie an immense stare of regret.

"She didn't even recognize you! Do you look that much different, besides the pointy ears and the extreme height?" She whispers harshly, keeping her glare away from his mother who pours mugs of coffee over at the back counter. "I think you're incredibly handsome if she's pulled back by that."

"Good one," He chuckles out of frustration, bearing a little grin as his mother sets their coffees down on the table. "Excuse me, ma'am, but do I know you from somewhere? I think your surname is Davie, am I mistaken?"

Philippa takes a small breath, ready to question how exactly he conjured up a statement like that before her hazel eyes, the same as his, widen and she grips the table to stop herself from falling.

Pleased, Andrew takes a hefty sip of his drink and smacks his lips together. Then he turns to his mother, looking forgiving for surprising her as he did. "Hey, Mum. Before you ask if you're dreaming, I assure you're not. I came to talk to you and I want you to know I'm sorry for not telling you where I've been for the past two years."

"I can't tell you how relieved I am that you're safe, baby," She grins wide, leaning in to offer him a tight squeeze. In a few moments, it's evident that she's crying, and the moment sends a shudder down Ginger's spine. The world could be so pretty if you went looking for small moments such as the reunion between a mother and her son. "I'm so, so happy to see you. You're so tall! Are you O.K.?"

"Better than okay," He nods quickly, sliding back into the booth after wiping the water from the older woman's cheeks. "Mum, this is Ginger, my fianceé. We're getting married next week and I figured now would be a good time to ask if you would come. It's nothing special, just the courthouse and dinner, but-"

"Oh, fuck you, Andrew, I wouldn't miss it for the world," Philippa beams, her gaze shifting to Ginger. The werewolf finds her best smile, showing sharp teeth and crescented-eyelids among her brown freckles in every direction of her skin. "Love, I imagine you're just the light of my son's eyes. Thank you for making him happy. Are your parents coming to the wedding as well? I would love to meet them."

"Yeah, about that..." Ginger says uneasily, ushering quickly her glare to her fiancé to solve the issue regarding their creature-part.

He lets out a sigh. "Mum, I know this isn't the time or the place, but you have to promise you'll keep your voice down when I tell you this." She nods, cocking an eyebrow before leaning in to hear the truth. Once it's uttered, she pauses and touches her lips, speechless before skittering back behind the doors into the kitchen. So much for that. "She didn't take that well."

"Who would?" The girl shrugs, taking the man's palm in hers as an apology.

They wait some moments, letting their coffees cool before Philippa Davie returns, having stripped from her apron and carrying in her hand a pack of cigarettes. With just a look, the two creatures know they should break from the table, following her out the door and to the brick alley beside the restaurant. She lights up a smoke and lets the nicotine engulf her lungs before muttering a few short words.

"You're a killer." The woman says sharply, her eyes at the asphalt beneath her black flats.

Davie shakes his head, dread in his stomach. He leans out to rest a hand on her shoulder before she shoves it away. "I'm not a killer, Mum. I'm still me. It's not my fault, I had no say! You have to believe me, Mum, I love you and I wanted to tell you sooner, but my life has been a chaotic mess from the day I was bitten!"

"And what about her? She a killer too? Baby-stealer? Shoe-eater?"

"She's the sweetest girl I've ever met, thank you!" He yells, storming off to the car before Ginger stops him, bringing him into a tight hug. "I'm pissed like there's a cloudy full moon on the night of a howl. Can't she accept me for who I am? God, I'm still her son, aren't I? She should love me regardless of who- what, I am."

"Just a minute." And with that, the girl slips aside, back into the alley where his mother is dispatching her first cigarette and reaching for another in the back. She toes over, hands in her pockets, trying to act naive. "Miss Davie's mom?"

"What the hell do you want from me? You're just like him, I can tell."

"Ma'am, please, I'm sorry. Davie is really hurt. He wants you to accept him and I think you should because you love him. He's the only person in the entire world that accepted me, and that's... that's why we're getting married. Because we love each other for who we are." Ginger utters, nibbling her lip and glaring at her reflection in a puddle of gasoline. Sure, she wasn't the prettiest human on Earth, but looks could be deceiving if she gave the woman a genuine, apologetic smile. "I hope you know he saved my life."

Philippa snorts at her offer to be the peacemaker. "Hun, you're cute, but you can't fix the two years I've experienced without my son. I grieved and I accepted he was gone for good; then he prances into my world again saying he's a werewolf? That's just a whole bunch of bullshit, werewolf or not."

Before Ginger is able to say differently, a large form pads it's way across the black asphalt, revealing the boy in all of his natural wolf glory. He's a beautiful subject, with gray and brown fur dotting around his flank. The tip of his tail is a dirty cream, white swimming under his chest like a freshly-brewed latte coffee. It would be silly to mistake him for anything other than what he was; towering almost five feet tall from paw to ears. The creature merely approaches the two women, kneeling down in front of his mate to show possession.

"Holy shit," The waitress backs away, putting her palms up in fear. Davie growls, snarling his sharp white teeth. Stay away from her, he warns, tail flicking back and forth. "Good wolf, good wolf..."

"He means you no harm!" Ginger shouts, her voice cracking as a low growl brews in his throat. "He's just showing you that he's who he said he was. Please, Davie's mom, he's not a killer. He wants you to trust him."

Andrew approaches his mother with a few heavy paws, panting in nerves. As he edges her against the brick, she attempts to scurry away before realizing the alley was a dead-end and clicks her lighter to usher him away with the small flame. He curls his skull down, bestowing his neck, promising in no way he was out to hurt his own kin, and lets out a low, whimper-like cry, licking her hand. Philippa softens and kills the flame.

"I'm sorry," She apologizes, noticing she had gone out of her head for a hot second. "You shouldn't have had to change just to prove it to me. You... can you understand me?" He nods his head, showing his wet, pink tongue in response. The women brings herself to smile, looking him up and down. "Wow, you're quite the beast. Is this how big werewolves usually get?"

Ginger lets out a harsh giggle, attaining to stroke her boyfriend's head. "He's a large one. I'm a runt, I was raised as a dog in a house because of how small I am. No werewolf is the same; he's similar to a husky dog in terms of demeanor and color. Never ask him to sit or speak, though, he'll rip your face off."

"Three burgers, two orders of chips, home fries and a chocolate milkshake? You would rip my face off if you were hungry enough," Phillippa giggles as she serves her son and future daughter-in-law lunch at the diner counter. "Food's on the house, take it as an apology for thinking you were a killer. I guess I just don't have enough knowledge on the mythical creatures of the world."

"Oi, we're one of the last packs in the world," Andrew clarifies, his jaws stuffed with food. Ginger eats beside him, shoving french fries into her mouth with cheese coated on top of the potatoes. "We just lost our alpha, the man who brought me into the pack. He got shot brutally the night I moved out. I'm still not sure if I'm relieved or grieving, but I think he would've liked me to get married."

Out of his pocket, the man unfolds one of the photographs from Ted, a scene of all 15 Greycrest members in front of the manor, smiling wide. He slides it to his mother, who puts her glasses on and bears a gentle grin, tracing her finger over his grinning image.

The boy chooses his words carefully. "I think of them as my second family. When the human world didn't take me in, they did. We had some tough times, but I'll definitely miss the pack."

"They all seem captivating," The waitress smiles, tears in her eyes. She leans in and presses a kiss to her son's forehead, closing her eyelids and relishing in the moment of reunion she hadn't gotten prior. "Welcome home, baby."

***

The matrimony was an incredible success.

Andrew and Ginger became Mister and Missus Davie on the sunny afternoon of August 27th in front of the local courthouse, hand-in-hand as they connected lips and smiled so wide their jaws would've popped out of socket if they shifted any higher. The woman was dressed in her dress, the white lace fluttering in the gentle wind, and the man got married in the same suit his grandfather had so, so many years ago. His mother had insisted she saw the next generation of Davie's be born in that tuxedo, and so to keep proper lineage, he wore it with pride and dignity.

Philippa attended the ceremony of just the two, wiping her eyes the entire time. She offered them rings; her own wedding ring for Ginger and his grandfather's for Davie, but obviously the couple had to decline. With marriage (and a mating ceremony to follow in proper wolf-ish fashion) they would share a bond stronger than any piece of jewelry could bring; they were now connected mentally, implying they had full contact to each other regardless of form or location. Sometimes, being a werewolf has its perks, and this was one of these magical touches. She promised to see them very soon and left still lamenting of delight.

After signing the contract, the newly-weds took off to a fancy restaurant in a taxi, giddy with hands all over each other the entire ride there. In the establishment, they were greeted by a waiter who led them to a candlelight table for two, outside where the stars were just beginning to shine under the recently-setting sun. They enjoyed a lovely dinner full of laughs and blushed cheeks, a whole bottle of champagne disappearing to their throats until the bill was even distributed. There, they fell through the doors partially drunk, cabbed home to their flat along the Thames, and made love until their muscles were sore and achy. There, the werewolves fell asleep in each other's grasp, dozing off to the soft breathing of the opposite. They didn't wake until after noon the following day, and Davie was very late to work.

He now served on Kev's record label, Communion Records, answering phone calls and doing paperwork regarding the signage of new acts. He quite enjoyed what he was doing; it gave him lots of experience regarding the process of making music, and of course, performances every weekend for the sake of the label were in the package deal. Secretly, he was writing an album, but of course, he intended to keep it secret until he knew it was perfect. It would be, he knew, if he worked hard enough on it (and stopped being late for work).

Ginger had a small job putting novels away at the bookshop down the street from their home. She only worked a small number of hours a week, for she still had a bit of trouble controlling her forms for long periods of time, and she wasn't educated enough to work the cash register or order books on the internet, but being employed brung her an unexplainable surge of confidence. She never could've imagined from the first time she changed in an alley behind the Chinese takeout place, feeling her fur turn into skin and her paws turn into hands and feet, that she would ever be capable of holding anything more than her own body. Alas, Andrew had come into her life and believed in her, and so she joyfully set toward to working her way up in the bookstore to hopefully, one day, work behind the counter.

"Come on, we can't be late," Davie ushers, shoving his boots into his backpack and following with a t-shirt and jeans. The monthly full moon was just edging it's way up to the sky, revealing a sky full of soft white stars among the evening. "Both of us could use a good run, you know."

The wolves were preparing for the howl, the third time they had done so without the fellowship of the pack. However, they sometimes joined in the company, and Ted allowed them to follow amongst his new Greycrest. Tonight, though, the couple planned not to join them, and instead pack a picnic to eat in sight of Earth's closest neighbor after they proposed their loyalty to her.

"I'm coming!" Ginger replies hastily, throwing her things into his bag and following down the long set of stairs to the street. She takes in a deep breath of the river water, her favorite smell in the world besides freshly-brewed coffee and the smell of Andrew after he got out of the shower. After a few sniffs of the air and an eye roll from her husband, she follows him down the street to where the truck is parked. Of course, the musician planned to get a new vehicle one of these days, but even with two combined wages, they still could barely pay rent for their much-nicer-than-before flat. "What did you pack to eat?"

He bears a gentle smile and turns the wheel. "Six roast beef sandwiches, some crisps, a beer or two and a bit of fruit. I would take advantage of the situation and hunt, but I don't want to ruin the pack's vigil or chase anything past their territory line."

"You're basically pack," The redhead jokes, throwing her feet onto the dashboard and letting her hair blow in the breeze from the open windows. "Do you really think Ted would be angry if he smelled you on their land? He's super sweet, and he was going to make you alpha. I want an alpha for a husband."

The man moans in joking frustration. As she progressed in her human ways, his wife was gaining quite the character. She was mouthy, full of rigid comments, and easily pissed. But of course, she was a young hereditary werewolf, and in her personal opinion, Ginger believed she was simply superior. And with enough peppering from her partner, the girl took a greater fondness to her appearance; an expensive, never-ending hobby of clothes, shoes, and cosmetics being born.

"Ginger, baby, I'm not pack anymore. Ted would probably slit my throat if I killed in his territory. Sure, he presumably would've made me an alpha, and it would've implied too much power for me to handle. I quite like being a city wolf with a pretty wife, it's rewarding in more ways than I can imagine. Now break your ass into a run, we've got to make it far enough to change."

And with that question out of his jaws, the duo hurried off into the groves, abandoning the truck behind and traveling towards the vastly glowing, greatest object in the whole empty northern hemisphere. The moon was ahead and the past was behind; life began again after the moon fell, as for the next evening, the sky would simply be an open country of sable black nothingness.

And black nothingness it would be.

Fin.


End file.
